


The Moonlit Series - One Shots

by mymoonyandstars



Series: The Moonlit Series [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Christmas, Dad Remus Lupin, Domestic Fluff, Fear of Flying, Fluff, Gen, Godparent Remus Lupin, Halloween, Multi, Other, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21662209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mymoonyandstars/pseuds/mymoonyandstars
Summary: A series of one-shots that accompany The Moonlit Series.These stories are designed to be supplemental pieces that go along with the series. These one-shots are not designed to be read as stand-alone pieces. Rating for the potential of darker and more mature themes later on.☽✶☾ ☽✶☾ ☽✶☾ ☽✶☾ ☽✶☾Year One:A Window to the PastYear Two:Dark TranquilityYear Three:Daughter of the Moon
Relationships: Remus Lupin & Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: The Moonlit Series [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561660
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Happy Birthday - Pre-Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: language

Remus John Lupin stood underneath the shower head in his bathroom, letting the hot water run down his aching body. The full moon was a few days prior, but he had spent most of his time underground. Nineteen-year-old Remus never would have imagined that he would be running amongst his werewolf peers acting as a spy for Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. It wasn't a job that he particularly enjoyed, but it was a job that he was made for.

His thoughts drifted lazily to James Potter and Lily Evans and their upcoming nuptials. James had asked Remus to be in his wedding party immediately after proposing to Lily on one of their Order missions but in their excitement the happy couple forgot about the full moon. Remus allowed a twinge of jealousy to pass through his thoughts as he thought about how James asked Sirius to be his best man. To be fair, Lily had asked Remus to stand beside her at the altar but alas – the call of the wolf was strong.

Remus's thoughts shifted once more as he thought about his family. His father Lyall was in good health but his mother had grown very ill over the years. Cancer was a bitch and none of the magic in the world created a cure. Though Hope was introduced to the magical community, Remus felt as though his mother would have eschewed from the magical remedies. But then his thoughts were brought to his younger sister Margaret.

To the entire family's surprise, Margaret had fallen pregnant half-way through her final year at Hogwarts. During their holiday in 1978, Margaret brought her then-boyfriend Jude Nickels to the Lupin home. Remus was almost positive that Lyall was prepared to snap the young man's neck upon hearing the news, but Hope, living up to her name, brought the fiery Lyall back to Earth. At least he seemed calm in public. Remus was almost thankful that he was running missions with the Order of the Phoenix just so that he didn't have to hear his parents arguing with each other.

Remus felt at fault for Margaret's behavior as they grew up. Margaret and Remus were practically peas in a pod until the werewolf Fenrir Greyback came to attack him late at night. After that night everything in their family changed. Hope and Lyall grew distant, though they remained loving, but it was clear their relationship was strained. Remus often took solace in spending time with his parents while Margaret seemed to be pushed by the wayside. Everything turned into managing Remus's care as a child and three-year-old Margaret couldn't understand.

Tired of being alone with his thoughts, Remus turned the water off, relishing in the last remnants of the steam. He froze as he heard a shuffle from inside his flat. He knew that he wasn't expecting anyone, but sure enough there was noises being made just outside the bathroom door. Without another moment's hesitation, Remus threw a pair of pants on, not bothering to dry himself, and grabbed his wand from the bathroom counter. He held his hand on the doorknob listening for the intruder and as he heard movement again, immediately outside the door, he flung the door open his wand at the ready.

"Hold your fire, boy!"

"Dad?"

"Sorry to scare you, Remy."

Remus was about to lower his wand when his eyes narrowed. He held his wand steady as he glared at the man who he hoped was his father. "What was your cake topper when you married mum?"

"The cake topper was a Boggart, though your mother had it commissioned to look like the man she thought was following her. She thought it would be funny because that was how we met," Lyall responded, his eyes wide. "I know you can never be too careful, but really Remy. You should be able to tell that I'm your father."

Remus finally lowered his wand and let out a sigh. "I should but a Polyjuice potion will change your scent as well. You could be anyone and I would never know." Remus grabbed the towel that he had left on the sink and proceeded to dry the rest of his body off. "What are you doing here?"

"I didn't have the time to send a message," Lyall said, his face brightening. "The baby is coming!"

"The baby? Margaret's baby?"

Lyall nodded quickly, a wide smile crossing his face. "Yes! We need to get to St. Mungo's right away!"

"I don't think that Margaret wants me there," Remus said sadly. He frowned for a moment and tossed his towel on the floor. He would get it later on after he took a nap. "As much as I would love to see the baby, I don't think it's a good idea."

"Remus, son, she asked for you."

Remus froze and then let out a laugh. "Did you just come here to tease me? She would never."

Lyall gave Remus a sly smile. "No, son. In fact, Margaret's exact words were, 'If his sorry arse says he doesn't want to come I want you to hex him and drag him in by his ear.'"

"You're positive that she said that," Remus asked, surprised. It _did_ sound like something Margaret would say, but he couldn't believe it.

"Yes," Lyall said softly. "Come on, get dressed and let's get to the hospital. We don't want to miss the baby being born."

Remus felt strange sitting in the waiting room of St. Mungo's. Lyall was pacing quickly waiting for the Healer to tell them the baby was born.

"Where's Jude?" Remus asked, noting that he couldn't pick up on Jude's scent or hear his voice.

Lyall shot Remus an aggravated look. "No one bloody knows. He disappeared a few days ago and hasn't returned," Lyall growled. "Hopefully the fucker is dead."

"Dad!" Remus was surprised as he very rarely heard his dad curse. Death threats on the other hand? A completely different story. "We're in a hospital"

"I suppose you're right," Lyall said, giving Remus a sure nod. "I hope the fucker is dead and can't find his way here to get fixed up."

Remus gave a passing couple an apologetic look as they passed by, appalled at Lyall's behavior. "Dad, you need to calm down or we're going to get kicked out and not be able to see the baby. _Sit down_ ," Remus hissed. "I don't like Jude any more than you do but being pissed isn't going to change anything."

"Oh, fine then," Lyall said, dropping into the seat next to Remus still seething. "I'm just saying that if he were to be laying on the ground dead somewhere I would be okay with it. Now, where is this baby? It's taking its sweet time, innit?"

Remus rolled his eyes at his dad and hid his smile. He knew that Lyall had a grudge against Jude for getting Margaret pregnant, but deep underneath that he was excited for a new baby in the family. Ever since Hope's passing a few years ago Lyall had been extremely lonely. Remus was out participating in dangerous missions and Margaret was now living in holy matrimony with Jude and had moved out to a flat outside of London. A grandbaby was exactly what the old man needed.

"Mr. Lupin?"

Both men looked at each other and turned to find a young Healer witch standing at the end of the hallway looking into the waiting room. The young witch paled and cleared her throat. "Mr. _Remus_ Lupin?" she corrected. "Margaret would like to see you."

Lyall inclined his head to Remus. "Well, lookit that, son. What did I tell you?"

Remus gave Lyall a playful shove, feigning annoyance as he stood, but gave his father a smile. He approached the young witch who was fidgeting. "Is everything alright?" Remus asked the witch, growing concerned that the young woman couldn't seem to stop dancing on the spot.

"Oh, no – everything is fine," the witch said with a smile. She lowered her voice and took a step closer to Remus. "I just have to use the loo, but Margaret insisted that I get you first."

"Then I suggest you run off to the loo. I can find my way," Remus said smiling at the witch.

The witch gave Remus an appreciative look. "No, it's okay," she said quickly, already walking away. "Thank you," she whispered as she darted away.

Remus held back a laugh as he walked down the hallway towards the maternity ward. He remembered walking down this hallway as a young boy when Margaret was born. He had never expected to be walking down the ward once more. Pushing through the doors at the end of the hallway he entered a circular room with multiple adjoined rooms. He paused and took in the multiple rooms and was drawn to the cry he heard to his righthand side. Seeing that no one was there to direct him, he took a chance and walked briskly to the seventh room on the right, just past the main desk.

Peering in, he was thankful to see Margaret sitting up in her bed but was surprised to see that she was holding a small bundle in her arms. Margaret spent a few moments cooing at the small bundle in her arms and looked up, almost fearful. Seeing it was Remus she relaxed and beckoned him into the room with a cock of her head.

"Dad's going to be livid," Margaret said with a sweet smile as Remus walked into the room. "He wanted to see the baby first."

Remus walked to Margaret's side, cautious. He couldn't remember the last time that Margaret had smiled at him, but the new life that she held in her hands captured his attention.

"Her name's Emelyn," Margaret said, glancing up at Remus and looked down as the cooing child in her arms. "Emelyn Theodosia."

"She's beautiful," Remus said honestly. He watched as Emelyn's tiny arms swung wild in her mother's arms; searching, feeling, exploring. The babe in Margaret's arms had a shock of brown hair, sweet, puffy cheeks, and the bluest eyes he had ever seen. He was in absolute awe of his niece and smitten. It was love at first sight.

"Do you want to hold her? Sit next to me." Margaret shuffled on the bed carefully, still holding Emelyn. She moved Emelyn to a single arm, laying her in the crook of her elbow and pat the empty spot next to her.

Remus gently took the spot next to Margaret. "I don't know if I should hold her," Remus said, trying to find his words. "I don't think Jude would appreciate -"

"Jude isn't here, Remus," Margaret said, sounding oddly excited at the prospect. She held Emelyn out to Remus. "Hold her, it'll be fine."

"Margaret, I don't want to break her," Remus protested, letting out a yelp as Margaret practically shoved Emelyn into his arms.

"You are not going to break her," Margaret said, throwing her head back with a laugh. "She doesn't even have real bones yet, Remus. Besides, she'll be magical. If you drop her, she'll bounce."

Remus shot Margaret and nervous look; his arms held awkwardly in front of him as he attempted to hold Emelyn. "I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted, giving Margaret a lopsided grin. Margaret couldn't help but laugh even more.

"Here, you prat," Margaret said, smiling at Remus and helping to support Emelyn's head as he adjusted his arms. "She looks comfortable."

"Does she?" Remus asked, his eyes finally leaving Margaret's to look down at the small bundle that he was now holding. He wasn't sure how Margaret knew that Emelyn was comfortable, but he found himself quickly captivated once more in her blue eyes. Her small arms were still swinging wildly, and he placed a finger into her hand, chuckling as her fingers reflectively gripped his. "She's strong."

"She's incredibly strong," Margaret said softly. "Remus, I need to ask you something important."

Remus looked away from Emelyn slowly and looked at Margaret. He was smiling, expecting to see Margaret smiling back but was bewildered seeing that her expression was closed off.

"What is it? Is everything okay?" Remus asked her quickly, the concern growing on his face.

Margaret realized that her face was betraying her feelings and gave Remus a small smile. "Yeah, everything is fine," Margaret said unconvincingly. "I just wanted to know if you would be Emma's godfather."

"Margaret, is that really a good idea? I'm honored, but -"

"Remus, there is going to be a time where I can no longer care for her. I know that things between us have been, well…they've been rough, but I need to know that if something happens to me that she'll be in good hands." Margaret watched Remus carefully, her face grave.

Remus sighed and looked down at Emelyn who was staring up at him. _She can't actually see you,_ Remus thought to himself, finding the idea funny. He nearly let out a chuckle until he turned to look at Margaret and saw that her face had gone from sad to pained. "Margaret…I really don't know."

" _Please_ , Remus," Margaret pleaded. "I can't ask anyone else."

With a glance back down at Emelyn in his arms and another look at Margaret's pained face, he nodded. "Okay."

"You'll be her godfather?" Margaret gave him an anxious smile. "You'll really do it?"

"Yes," Remus said, not entirely sure why he agreed. He looked back down at Emelyn who was falling asleep in his arms and felt the corners of his mouth twitch. As he looked down at Emelyn he understood why.

Margaret wrapped her arms around Remus carefully, trying to avoid disturbing Emelyn who was resting quietly, her tiny fingers still wrapped around his. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Miss Nickels?"

Remus and Margaret looked up at another young Healer witch who stood in the doorway of her room.

"It's still Lupin," Margaret corrected the Healer.

The Healer gave her an exasperated look. "Your father is threatening to blow up the doors of the ward if we don't let him in. Is it alright if we bring him in?"

Margaret smiled back at the witch, her entire face changing as though nothing had happened. "Yes. I think dad's waited long enough." She gave Remus a knowing look as the young witch quickly ran off nervously. Margaret wrapped her arms around his arm, resting her head on his shoulder as she looked down at Emelyn. "I told you she was comfortable."

A few moments later, Lyall burst into the room, but upon seeing his two children sitting together he froze. He couldn't remember the last time that Remus and Margaret sat close together and weren't fighting and he couldn't help but smile at the scene. He had longed for the day that the two would finally stop fighting and was happy to see that day had finally come. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a camera.

"For the family album," Lyall said with a shrug as his children looked at him aghast.

Remus and Margaret looked at each other and laughed. Remus carefully adjusted Emelyn in his arms so that her little face could be shown to Lyall and be seen in the photo. Margaret sat up, keeping her arms wrapped around Remus's. The siblings gave each other another quick look and turned to look at Lyall who was holding his camera up, watching the two expectantly. They both let out a laugh and smiled broadly at Lyall.

The camera flashed.


	2. Moo Moo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Sirius babysit Emelyn.

"Say 'Moony.'"

"Moo Moo."

"No, no, no. Moony."

"You're teaching her the wrong way."

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin sat in front of the fireplace with a small girl in front of them. They had just come off a recent mission for the Order of the Phoenix but the draw of getting to play with the small child in front of them seemed more enjoyable than getting some sleep.

"Well, then _professor_ , why don't you show me how it's done?" Sirius said sarcastically.

Remus Lupin shooting his friend a smug look. "I shall," he said, turning to the small child. "Emma, say 'Moo knee.'"

"Moo Moo!" said the child excitedly.

"What was that, Mini Moons?" Sirius asked, cupping a hand around his ear and turning it towards Emelyn.

"Moo Moo!"

"No, Emma – 'moo knee,'" Remus said, giving Sirius a sidelong glance, getting nervous. He repeated the words, pointing emphatically at his own knee in hopes she would grasp the concept. He needed to prove a point to Sirius, but Emelyn seemed to be having none of it.

"Moo Moo."

"Moooooo. Kneeeeeee."

"Moo Moo," Emelyn recited back.

"Well, Moons, it looks as though you have now become Moo Moo," Sirius said with a barking laugh. "I'm still Padfoot, James is Wrong, and you're Moo Moo."

"Well, I'd rather be Moo Moo than Wrong," Remus conceded. "Remember how disappointed James was trying to teach her?"

"He looked as disappointed as the first time Lily rejected him," Sirius said wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, remembering the memory fondly. "It was bloody brilliant."

The small girl climbed into Remus's lap, reaching out to pull on Sirius's long locks.

"Why does she like my hair so much? Yours is just as long," Sirius said, bending his head down to let Emelyn grab onto his hair.

"Probably because it's shiny. Maybe she's a Niffler in disguise," Remus said, watching in amusement as Sirius winced as Emelyn pulled a little too hard on his hair.

"A Niffler, Moons? She would be a rather large Niffler, no?"

"I suppose. She would be a cute Niffler." Remus gently tickled Emelyn's sides making her giggle.

"Oi, don't do that when she's pulling my hair," Sirius said grumpily, rubbing his head as he sat back up. "She's a right little monster sometimes!"

Remus snorted as he watched Sirius who was glaring at him. "Don't tell Emma that she's a monster," Remus said to Sirius. He bent down to Emelyn sitting in his lap. "Don't listen to Uncle Padfoot. He just woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. You are a perfect little angel."

"Yeah, when she's asleep," Sirius muttered, still rubbing his head.

"Did you know you're very dramatic?" Remus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I am just the right amount of dramatic," Sirius said, flipping his hair with a hand. "That's why you all love me."

"You're ridiculous," Remus said rolling his eyes.

"When are your dad and Mag getting back," Sirius asked leaning down and making faces at Emelyn. He frowned as Emelyn grabbed onto his hair again.

"Soon, I'm sure," Remus said. "I should probably get going. I don't know if Margaret would be happy to see me here."

Sirius carefully pulled his hair out of Emelyn's hands and pulled her onto his lap, turning his frown to his friend. "Moons, I don't think Margaret would mind. She made you Emma's godfather after all."

"I don't think she meant it," Remus said standing up, stretching. "Besides, Emma at least knows your name."

"Rem, your name is difficult for her. You know Harry is absolutely dreadful with names, too. He can't even say Padfoot."

"Harry is also one," Remus said, giving Sirius a pointed look. He looked at the fireplace and decided to head towards the door.

"You're going to apparate? You're exhausted, Moons. Just stay here and sleep. You know Lyall loves any opportunity to keep you here." Sirius said. He looked down Emelyn who was staring up at him expectantly and sighed, leaning down once more to let her grab onto his hair.

"It's fine, Sirius," Remus said, giving him a lopsided grin. "Really." Remus bent down to kiss the top of Emelyn's head and walked to the front door. "I'll see you later. Watch her carefully, please."

"I wouldn't think of doing anything but," Sirius said, smiling through a grimace.

Remus shook his head with a small grin. He walked outside and as he hit the bottom step of the stairs, spun on the spot and –

 _Pop_.


	3. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time Remus gave up and the start of every time he didn't.

Remus Lupin leaned back into the stiff wooden chair he was sitting in, a glass of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky in hand. The cinnamon-colored drink shimmered in the light of the dying firelight. He pulled at the knot of his tie, feeling as though he was wearing a noose around his neck. Taking a long draw from his glass, Remus sighed. He felt his brain trying to process everything that had happened in the past few hours. If he was going to be honest with himself, he was trying to process everything from the past two weeks.

His gaze shifted from the fire and over his shoulder to the small form sleeping soundly under a pile of blankets. He took a look back down at the glass in his hand and placed it down on the table beside him. It would be the last time he would take a drink of the fiery alcohol for a while. He would indulge when the moment called for it, but he no longer felt the need to drink.

If someone had told him that Albus Dumbledore would be breaking into his house to tell him very unexpected news, he would have laughed. He would have laughed until his sides were sore and tears were spilling out of his eyes. Then again, almost anything would have made him react in such a fashion. It wasn’t as though he was sober enough to comprehend what was happening.

The day that Albus Dumbledore came to call, Remus had decided that he would end his suffering. For him, suicide was the only option. He had spent the better part of ten years intoxicated and living on a steady stream of drugs and alcohol. He could remember the first time he had taken a hit of heroin as if it was yesterday, although it had been a few years since. The drugs that could be found in the wizarding world were never as potent as the drugs from Muggle London. One trip down a seedy alleyway led Remus into worlds that he could only imagine.

Remus’s small and broken cottage in Upper Helmsley was littered with empty bottles of alcohol. When something broke, he didn’t bother to fix it. When Muggle teenagers would adventure to his section of road and throw heavy rocks through the windows, he never bothered to repair the glass. He could have done all of the fixing he needed, after all, he was a wizard, but he didn’t have anything to care about. Not anymore. Remus had been taking whatever jobs he could find and filtered the money he earned into buying more alcohol to numb his pain and drugs to chase a high that he would never find.

Remus had spent most of the night preparing for how he would kill himself. The full moon was only days away and he had every intention of letting himself be seen. He had laughed drunkenly throughout the night as he formed his plan.

All he had to do was tip someone off, anyone, that a werewolf had been seen in the area the previous month and whoever found it first should kill it. He could tell the Muggles that there was a wayward wolf killing livestock as they wouldn’t understand the idea of a werewolf existing. The idea was foolproof. If there was one thing Wizards and Muggles had in common, it was prejudices against things that they didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure if his death would be quick and painless, but all he could care about was the release of death.

Once his identity was discovered, someone would be able to find his letter, his will, his wand, and his Gringotts’s banking information sitting tidily on the coffee table in his living room. It was the cleanest place in his home, though he couldn’t care less about the state of his home as he wouldn’t be around to enjoy it any longer. Like everything Remus did, his plan was well thought out and meticulous, solidified in the briefest moments of sobriety. Nothing could go wrong.

Or so he thought.

When Remus woke up the next morning, dirty and still drunk on his couch, he was sure that he had already died. There was no other logical reason why Albus Dumbledore would be sitting in his living room, a cup of tea in hand in the armchair near the fire as if he did it every day.

“Hello, Remus,” Dumbledore said, nodding at Remus as the werewolf slowly sat up on the couch.

“Hello, Albus,” Remus responded, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement. He looked around the room, taking in the Ogden’s bottles, the tall bottles of Bungbarrel Spiced Mead, and the taller and thinner bottles of Berry Ocky Rot. He held his hands out in front of him and stared at them, impressed at how solid they looked. “Huh, this isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Although, Professor, why are _you_ here? You didn’t die too, did you?”

“Well, as luck would have it, I am not dead, Remus,” Albus said simply, his blue eyes twinkling at Remus almost sarcastically. “And as luck would have it, neither are you.”

Remus stared hard at Dumbledore, his muddled brain trying to take in what the old wizard had just said to him. A dull ache began to press on his head, making him begin to laugh, the entire scene in front of him strange. “Then I’m a ghost,” Remus declared, almost sure of it until the ache in his head grew stronger. He swallowed hard against the bile that was threatening to release itself.

“Remus, I believe whatever it is you were planning to do will need to wait. Or, rather in this instance, never occur,” Dumbledore said softly, reaching into his robes and pulling out a small vial filled with a midnight blue liquid. “Take this. I need you sober for what I’m going to tell you.”

Remus took the vial from Dumbledore, dubious of the vial’s contents, but still, the werewolf downed the liquid. He made a retching noise at the taste, but everything quickly came into focus and the increasing throbbing in his brain disappeared. Taking another look around the room, he felt himself flush. _Shit_.

Looking back at the old wizard, Remus felt a tightening in his chest. It took a lot for the werewolf to become flustered, but as the heady scent of alcohol reached his nose, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. The younger Remus would have never let his home get in the state that it was in, but he hadn’t been sober long enough in the past years to care.

“Why are you here, Albus,” Remus asked finally, rubbing his temples to hopefully remove the last of the ache.

“Well, my boy, it would appear that things have changed.”

“Changed,” Remus said, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as he took in his surroundings. “I suppose you could say that.”

“Remus Lupin, were you planning on killing yourself?”

Remus snorted, gesturing to his things laid out in a line on the coffee table. “Not at all. I just have my things in a row because I enjoy looking at them.”

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Pardon?”

“Tea. Would you like a cup?”

“I…I don’t have any tea in the house,” Remus said, shaking his head.

“That’s quite all right,” Dumbledore said, pulling his wand out of his robes and flourishing it through the air. In an instant, Remus found himself holding a cup of tea in his hand.

“Erm, thank you,” Remus said, taking a tentative sip of the drink. Of course, it would be made the way he liked it and he found himself chuckling again. “Now, why are you here, Professor?”

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore said, nodding. “As I was saying, things have changed.”

“I gathered as much,” Remus said, “But you have yet to tell me why.”

“Well, to be quite frank, _everything_ has changed, and I dare say that you will need some assistance in getting your home in a livable condition.”

“It’s fine enough, it’s just me,” Remus snapped. “It could stand to have the bottles cleaned up, but it’s fine.”

“It’s not in the proper condition for a child.”

“There’s no reason why a child would even be stepping foot into my home, Albus,” Remus snorted, placing his cup down on the table. “Why are you really here?”

“Precisely for that reason, Remus. A child _will_ be stepping foot into your home. In a few short weeks, actually.”

Remus felt as though all of the stifling hot air from the July heat was sucked out of the room as he grew cold. Had he accidentally gotten someone pregnant during one of his drunken nights? He couldn’t remember, but he couldn’t imagine finding himself in bed with a woman. Not after Sirius. He quickly shook the thought from his mind, fixing Dumbledore with a sharp look. “No. There won’t be.”

“Oh, yes, Remus. There will be,” Dumbledore said solemnly, taking a sip of his cup of tea. “Remus, it would appear as though, regretfully, we have been looking in all of the wrong places.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well, Remus, if you remember from your own time at Hogwarts, acceptance letters from school go out around this time. In fact, I recall you opening the door and letting me in much to your father’s chagrin, and we spent an hour playing Gobstones together. Do you remember?”

“Vaguely, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Please, allow me to continue. Reminiscing aside, I imagine that you could imagine my surprise when our dear Minerva came rushing into my office only a day ago, clutching a letter in hand. Now, it’s not uncommon for Minerva to be holding a pile of envelopes when entering my office, but this instance was very peculiar as only a single letter was held in hand. I think it would be appropriate to say that she looked startled.

“‘Minerva, what appears to be the problem?’ I asked, watching our darling Minnie sit down in front of my desk, after transfiguring the chair into a tall and ornate wingback, you know how she is. Anyway, instead of answering, she only held the envelope out to me. It didn’t take long for me to understand why Minnie was under such distress.”

“Professor, I’m not understanding. What does Minerva being in distress have to do with you being here today?”

Albus Dumbledore once again reached into his robes, procuring an envelope. He held the envelope out to Remus who took it carefully, still not understanding what Dumbledore was trying to convey.

Remus’s fingers brushed the lavender wax seal on the envelope, his eyes flicking back up to Dumbledore in surprise as he read the return address. _Saint Nicholas Children’s Home, York_. He flipped the envelope over, hoping that things would be explained on the front of the envelope, but was met with the address to Hogwarts.

“Open it,” Dumbledore said softly, placing his cup down on the table.

Brow furrowed, Remus carefully opened the envelope and began to read.

> _Dear Minerva,_
> 
> _I am pleased to say that Emelyn Theodosia Nickels will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Remus swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, unable to get past the first line of the letter. He looked back up at Dumbledore and returned to the letter.

“This says Nickels,” Remus said quietly, his voice strained. “It doesn’t say Lupin, this isn’t her.”

“I can see where your confusion matches mine,” Dumbledore agreed, “but it is the very same.”

“This…no, this is Emma? Margaret’sEmma? _My_ Emma?”

Dumbledore nodded, giving Remus a soft smile in response.

Remus wasn’t sure when his tears began to fall, relief and fear flooding his entire system. He had given up on the idea of Emelyn ever being found years ago and had come to terms with the idea that she had died when she went missing. Dumbledore took the letter from Remus’s hands, folding it back into the envelope and placing it back in his robes.

“How? How are you even sure that it’s her?”

“Well, one of the beautiful things about the records of Hogwarts is that they’re always fluctuating. Though Emelyn’s name couldn’t be found with the L’s any longer, it _could_ be found with the N’s. I hardly doubt that it’s a coincidence that an Emelyn Theodosia Lupin disappeared and an Emelyn Theodosia Nickels appeared in place with the same date of birth,” Dumbledore explained, taking a look around the living room. “There are many more questions that require answers, but that will be found in due time. That being said, it appears as though some work needs to be done to prepare for her arrival. And I don’t mean just the house.”

“What do you mean, ‘prepare for her arrival?’”

Dumbledore stood and straightened out his robes. “I mean exactly that, Remus,” he said, walking towards the front door. His eyes followed the hallway, his eyes stopping on the guest bedroom. “I believe that they said that her favorite color is yellow, do what you will with that information.”

Remus began to sputter nonsense as he wiped his face. “I – Albus, I can’t take a child in. I know that it’s Emma, but I can’t have a child here. My father would be -”

“Optimistically doubtful? Yes, I can understand why you would believe Lyall would be the better option. I daresay that the man would be overjoyed at the idea of having a child in the house again after your mother passed,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully, taking another look around the house. “However, the records that we were able to procure have you listed as Emelyn’s godfather. Even further, you went through with the formal ceremony with the Goblins, did you not?”

“Yes, but I was 19 and stupid. Margaret never really meant it and I didn’t know what I was doing –”

“Well, since it was formalized with the Goblins already, she will be coming here,” Dumbledore said, cutting Remus off. “I will be sending some of the elves to help clean and prepare for her arrival. I’ll also make sure that a few things are sent; sobering and pain relief potions to relieve your withdrawal symptoms. Perhaps we’ll have to discuss the idea of getting you the Wolfsbane potion…”

“I can’t afford –”

“Don’t worry about that right now, I’ll make sure that things are taken care of. For now, focus on getting through the moon, cleaning this house, and getting yourself sober. She is going to rely on you more than you know. I’ll be sure to send an owl when it’s time.”

And with that, Dumbledore appeared from Remus’s home, leaving him alone to the pain of a rapid withdrawal and the full moon. Even with the help of the elves and multiple potions, Remus struggled. The potions forced his body to go through withdrawal in a fraction of the time it would normally take and he found himself cold and sweating naked on the bathroom floor. He wished for a death that would never come. Remus felt that if the withdrawal didn’t kill him first, the agonizing ripping and tearing of his body from the full moon would.

As he lay on the floor, he couldn’t help but think that the old wizard could be playing a terrible trick on him. It was no secret that Dumbledore needed Remus to live, he was the perfect spy, but he didn’t want to live if there was no reason to. The rapid release of toxins sent the wolf into a frenzy, what once was a sleepy and angry haze for the wolf was starting to become a violent awakening. Remus couldn’t stop himself from scratching and tearing into his skin, fighting to maintain control over his humanity.

The human side of Remus, that wanted desperately to kill the wolf, was sure that there was no possibility that Emelyn was alive. But the wolf, no longer poisoned, was reawakening a hope that Remus tried desperately to cling to. If the wolf felt that there was still a possibility, Remus would allow it to indulge.

Begging the elves to bring him to his shelter in the woods, he granted the wolf freedom. It made his transformation a little easier, allowing the wolf to take hold without fighting the breaking and snapping of his bones and muscles. Behind closed doors, the wolf howled loudly and slammed itself into any surface that it could find. The wolf wanted out into the open air, to search for his missing cub, and was fighting hard to escape. When Remus saw the damage the next morning, saw his bruised and battered body in clarity for the first time in months, he felt disgusting. He hated allowing the wolf push through and take over his entire being, but the wolf knew one thing.

The wolf knew that his cub was still alive.

Several nights after the full moon, a very broken and shaky Remus received the letter from Dumbledore he had been waiting for. He thanked the massive owl profusely, insisting that the owl take whatever he had available as he tore into the envelope.

> _Dear Remus,_
> 
> _The elves have told me that you are doing well, that is wonderful to hear. I told you that I would write to you when I had more details to give and I didn’t forget that promise._
> 
> _Emelyn will be arriving in Diagon Alley tomorrow with Minerva. Minerva will make sure that she is introduced to the magical world and receive her things for school. Her board has been paid until the 2nd, but I imagine you will want to bring her home sooner than that._
> 
> _I will meet you at The Leaky Cauldron…_

Remus stopped reading the letter, holding it in his shaking hands. He still wasn’t sure that he believed Dumbledore and that was how he found himself sitting in the dining area of The Leaky Cauldron early the next morning. If it was truly her, he knew that wolf would be clamoring for that connection after lying dormant for so long.

He wasn’t sure what time they would arrive and had gotten to the pub very early, bringing a book to keep him company. He allowed himself to indulge in breakfast at the pub, keeping an eye trained on the entrance, jumping each time the door opened. Remus took a look at his watch, nearly letting out a groan as he read 11:00 AM.

There was another jingle at the door and Remus nearly kept his eyes focused on his book, but a familiar voice drifted over the conversations of the pub. “If you would stay put for a moment, Miss Nickels, there is another young witch that will be joining us today.”

Remus’s mouth fell open as he spotted Minerva McGonagall, hair high up in her trademarked bun, wearing a dark blue dress. He let out a breath, bordering on a laugh, as he was catapulted back into the past. He shook his head, trying to clear his disbelief. His gaze was drawn to the small girl, dressed in a too-big shirt and jeans, that stood next to the prim and proper Minerva McGonagall.

“Sure,” the girl said breathlessly as she took in her surroundings, her voice soft and sweet amongst the rough voices over the other pub guests. He was almost sure that he heard the remnants of the Welsh accent that she would have picked up as a toddler, but he still wasn’t sure. She sat down, her eyes unable to focus on any one thing, clearly curious and fascinated.

Remus closed his book, moving his chair to get a better view of the girl, wanting desperately to see her face. All he wanted was confirmation that the girl in question was the one that he was waiting to see. He watched as she continued to scan her surroundings, taking in a conversation with an awe-struck expression. She let out a quiet laugh that he strained to hear before she returned to looking around.

Then her eyes met his and it was like a jolt of lightning shot through his body. His breath caught in his chest as the wolf gave a triumphant howl.

 _His cub_.

There was no mistaking that it was Emelyn as he looked at her. Her eyes were exactly how he always remembered. They were the same amber flecked shade of green that matched not only his but Margaret’s and their mother Hope’s eyes. She gave him a quizzical look, her gaze lingering on him for a moment as if she didn’t want to pull her eyes away, but she continued to look around. Remus took a steadying breath and collected his things, carefully slipping out of the pub while she was looking the other way.

Though he desperately wanted to go into the pub to take her home right then and there, he wasn’t fully prepared. He had more cleaning to do and he wanted to remove almost any trace of alcohol that he had in his home. Any reminders of his drug-induced haze would be removed and purged as if they never happened.

 _His letter_.

Remus needed to tuck his letter in a place no one would find it. He wouldn’t get rid of it, but it needed to be hidden away where it wouldn’t be seen.

When Remus found himself back at The Leaky Cauldron a few days later, he was a bundle of nerves. He had to search his closet to find the best clothes that he owned and stupidly found a dark brown suit that was scratchier than he could remember. It was a little loose on his body, but the two weeks of having the elves at his disposal had helped him fill back out. He sat impatiently at a table, waiting for Dumbledore to arrive, glancing around the pub in hopes that Emelyn would have returned early.

“Ah, Remus, you’re here,” Dumbledore said, sweeping into the pub in purple robes. “Shall we head upstairs?”

“We’re not meeting her down here,” Remus asked anxiously, standing up from the table and looking towards the door that housed the entrance to Diagon Alley.

“No, Remus. You two deserve privacy away from prying eyes. Come along and let us have something to eat first.”

Remus nodded, following Dumbledore up the stairs. “When will she be coming?”

“Ah, I told Tom to tell her to return at 7. It appears as though she’s been enjoying her time here and has been spending a lot of time in Flourish and Blotts. Rumor has it that was something that you used to do as a child, as well,” Dumbledore said, giving Remus a knowing smile over his shoulder.

Dumbledore and Remus spent an hour and a half together, discussing plans for Emelyn and Remus’s anxieties over having her. As the clock on the wall chimed 7, Dumbledore stood.

“She’ll be here momentarily. I will come back for you when it’s time,” Dumbledore said, sweeping out of the room and leaving Remus by himself.

Remus was instantly on his feet, pacing the room nervously as he waited. Before he knew it, Dumbledore had returned, only giving the wide-eyed werewolf a simple nod.

And so, Remus found himself in the room he was in presently, looking at his niece - his goddaughter - for the first time up close in nearly a decade.

She was small, though much taller than he would’ve imagined for an eleven-year-old-girl. As she stood in front of him, he couldn’t help but grin as the top of her head barely reached his chest. The last time he had seen her she had barely been taller than his knee. Her green eyes were even more magnificent than when she was a child, though they were tinged with a mix of confusion and fear, her expression almost accusing.

He quickly realized that he must look like a monster to her; all tall with long limbs, and to sell the title of monster he had the scars from Fenrir Greyback’s attack on him from when he was a boy. He couldn't ignore the way her eyes warily traced the scars, unasked questions sitting on the tip of her tongue that she would never ask. Despite all of that, Remus found himself falling hopelessly back in love with the girl.

When she spoke, Remus was sure that his heart would melt, but instead, he found himself wanting to laugh. He bit the inside of his cheek, attempting to mask his expression the best he could.

“You were here the other day,” she said with all the accusation that an eleven-year-old could muster. “You were sitting downstairs the day I arrived.”

Remus knew right then and there that they would be fine.

Pulling himself back into the present, Remus sighed, standing up and stretching out his limbs as much as he could. He looked back at Emelyn with a smile as he made his way towards the door. Terrified as he was, he knew they would be fine. With a final look at Emelyn, Remus opened the door and pulled his wand out of his pocket and waving it towards the fire to snuff the flames.

“I will be here for you no matter what,” Remus whispered into the room, grateful that she was asleep. “Always.”


	4. Flying Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one-shot was written by my husband and I find it absolutely hysterical. His take on Emelyn and the Potterverse is refreshing for me to see.
> 
> I hope you giggle at this little snippet as much as I do whenever I read it

Emelyn was enjoying her classes as the first several weeks at Hogwarts passed on by. It was delightful learning about this new world she found herself in and discovering all types of magic she, until recently, hadn't thought possible.

However, in all the fun she had forgotten that Flying (taught by the eagle-eyed and eccentric Madam Hooch) was coming up. That particular class was one of the few she hadn't looked forward to.

She was not a fan of heights (thanks to her unruly roommate Jocelyn back at St. Nicholas's) and fancied that the fall from a broom would hurt a lot more than a bunk bed. So, when three-thirty rolled around on the day of the first lesson, she slowly and begrudgingly made her way down the front steps onto the grounds. Whereas the rest of the Hufflepuffs hurried to the field in excited anticipation, she took her sweet time.

As she crestfallenly marched with the other Hufflepuffs down the sloping lawn toward the smoother, flat lawn that would be the setting of her despair, she started to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of her gut.

It was a clear day, with a cool breeze creating ripples and waves in the grass. The trees that made up the edge of the forbidden forest swayed ominously as they loomed darkly in the distance. The uneasy calmness and familiarity of her surroundings brought about unpleasant sensations she had felt before. However, she couldn't quite place where. Suddenly, all the pieces fell together like a twisted puzzle you didn't want to finish.

 _It's just like my nightmare_ , she thought to herself. And, as if on cue, a cold tremble began to slowly crawl along her body. "Exactly what I needed before trusting my life to an oversized stick meant for cleaning floors" she grumbled to herself.

When she arrived, she saw that the rest of the houses were already there and waiting impatiently for the short, gray-haired, yellow-eyed professor to start the lesson.

The dreaded tools of her impending torture were lying in neat lines on the ground. She sighed heavily as it seemed like only a couple of other students looked as nervous and unwilling as her.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Madam Hooch barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Emelyn looked down at her broom trying to wordlessly hex the old, beat up stick that would supposedly hold her up in the air.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

Another heavy sigh from Emelyn as she cursed her inability to hex a simple cleaning tool.

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Emelyn's broom jumped into her hand at once, much to her surprise and dismay.

"Merlin's beard," she whispered bitterly as she rolled her eyes harder than she meant to. It seemed like hers was one of the few that did, with the mysteriously hyped Harry Potter being amongst the "lucky" few.

Hermione's rolled over on the ground like it was laughing at her. Poor Neville's broom refused to obey, which made her silently envious. The quiver in Neville's voice made it clear that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground as much as she did, so why the hell did her broom betray her? She would have pondered that mystery further had Madam Hooch not hastily continued to the next part of the lesson.

She showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end (which Emelyn paid sharp attention to as she did not want to meet her ironic, untimely end from falling off a broomstick of all things). Then she walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. She noticed the smirks on Harry and Ron when she got to Malfoy. Apparently, he had been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle-three-two-…"

Poor Neville, nervous and jumpy, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but it was too late.

Emelyn watched in empathetic awe as he rose straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle -twelve feet, twenty feet, too many feet. She saw his scared white face and had a sickening realization of what was about to happen.

He looked down at the increasingly shrinking ground, gasped, slipped sideways off the broom and - WHAM.

Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. The thud and nasty crack sound that preceded the current display made Emelyn shiver. She looked back up in time to see his broom drift into the Forbidden Forest.

"May your fate be worse than Neville's," she sneered.

"Broken wrist," she heard Madam Hooch mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get." Then she looked at the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

"A-bloody-men." sighed Emelyn thankfully.

No sooner than they were out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. The other Slytherins joined in while the rest of the houses began murmuring restlessly. Malfoy suddenly dashed forward and snatched something out of the grass.

"Look! It's that stupid thing Longbottom's Gran sent him," he said. Harry yelled at him, silencing the crowd, "Give it here!"

Emelyn watched with growing curiosity as this new scene unfolded _. This class just got interesting,_ she thought to herself.

The next thing she knew, Malfoy had leaped onto his broomstick and taken off. It seemed he was intent on hiding the Remembrall and challenging the boy who lived.

Harry grabbed his broom, ready to accept when Hermione suddenly interrupted (as she's prone to do).

"No!" she shouted, "you'll get us all into trouble." Emelyn rolled her eyes again. _Typical Hermione,_ she thought to herself slightly amused.

Of course, Harry ignored her and soared up to meet Malfoy.

Emelyn watched with bated breath as Harry reached Malfoy and they began exchanging words again.

She couldn't tell what was being said but gasped as Harry suddenly charged Malfoy like a knight on a horse and took a slight breath of relief as Malfoy dodged just in time. More words exchanged.

Something Harry said made Malfoy decide to launch the glass ball back to the ground and retreat. She looked on in panic as Harry started diving for it. As they both were getting closer and closer to the ground, all Emelyn could think was how the bloody hell she was going to explain this to Remus ("Hey, I just watched The Boy Who Lived become one with the ground and relinquish that title. Love and kisses.") She shuddered and nervously laughed at the thought.

As she continued to watch, Harry by some insane amount of luck managed to catch the ball and pull up with only a foot of air left. Then he toppled gently onto the grass.

Someone yelled "HARRY POTTER!" from behind them, breaking the trance she was in from the spectacle she just witnessed and nearly giving her a heart attack in the process.

It was Professor McGonagall and she laid into Harry something fierce then dragged him away as some protested.

Emelyn just stood there trying to process everything she just saw and experienced. "And this is why I hate flying," she said to herself as she tried to calm her breathing and get her heart to stay in her chest.

"May Merlin have mercy on Remus's soul if he ever tries to get me on one of these things," she silently cursed. She had enough for today and was ready for bed.


	5. Halloween

Halloween was always a difficult holiday for Remus. A day that had been nothing but pure joy and full of mirth had become a day that Remus wanted nothing more than to forget. Even though it had been a decade since the day his entire life had changed, it seemed as though his entire world had fallen apart only yesterday.

Remus sat at his kitchen table, slowly drinking his tea and thinking about Halloween 10 years ago. He had just come from a long mission Underground and was looking forward to taking a long and well-needed shower. The plan was for everyone to meet at the Potters that night to take Harry Trick-or-Treating in the house. Each Marauder was meant to take a room in the house as Lily would toddle Harry around to receive candy and treats.

He briefly considered reaching out to Margaret to see if she would be interested in bringing Emelyn along but thought better of it. He was sure that Margaret would have plans for his two-year-old niece already and didn't feel right disturbing whatever plans they might have. He knew that Margaret had plans to visit their father's that night, but Remus would pass on the visit himself. It wasn't as though Margaret had tried to reach out to him.

 _Oh, well,_ he had thought to himself. _There's always next year_.

With a bitter laugh, Remus placed his cup of tea down on the table, placing his elbows on the table and placing his face in his hands. His thoughts wandered to that night, something he only allowed himself to do on Halloween every year.

In a single minute, his entire life had changed. His two best friends dead, the other a traitor, the other one presumably running to safety…his sister and her boyfriend tortured and his niece, his goddaughter, missing.

He collapsed on the floor of Dumbledore's office, unable to handle the news that he was given. He wanted to cry, but the tears never came. The only thing that arrived was the deafening silence that at twenty-one he had lost everything, a blinding ringing that caused him to nearly forget where he was. His entire world was destroyed at the hands of war. He had lost everything.

Remus could still remember the way that McGonagall, his Minnie, had dropped down on the floor next to him. She had gently pulled him to her chest, holding his head to her the way his mother had done many times before. She held him the way that Lily would hold him after a fight with Sirius; the way that Sirius would hold him after a particular rough transformation. Now he had none of those people to take care of him when he needed them most, though he would never admit it.

Even as his sadness overwhelmed him, the tears never came. He could only allow himself to be held by the woman that he had come to love as a second mother and be left with his thoughts.

When he was finally able to pull himself up off the floor, he first visited James and Lily's, needing to see the destroyed house himself. He knew that Harry was safe, for now, but the thought didn't bring him comfort as he saw the house for the first time. The dying embers were warm, though the flames had been doused. Muggle police surrounded the home with plain-clothed Ministry workers joining in the investigation. The wizards working the case knew what happened, of course, but the cooperation of the Muggles was more important.

Deciding that he had enough of watching the scene he found himself at his younger sister's home. Though the house was nowhere near as destroyed as the Potter's, the home was still in disarray. Seeing that the front door was still open to the two-story home, Remus had walked inside. He wasn't sure what he would see, but he wasn't expecting the odd emptiness that awaited him inside.

If he didn't know any better, he would think that Margaret had never been pregnant or had a child. As he walked through each room it didn't look as though anyone more than a young couple lived there. There were no photos of a child, no children's toys, no children's furniture – nothing. It was almost as if the young girl didn't exist, but Remus knew that wasn't right. He spent a few hours turning over furniture, inspecting walls and floorboards, expecting Emelyn to show up right under his nose, but there was nothing.

The sunlight was beginning to break when Remus finally stopped searching, slumping down on the floor of the living room unsure of why everything was _wrong_. He heard a noise and held his wand at the ready and immediately relaxed seeing his father for the first time in months.

"Remy?"

And that was the moment Remus was finally able to cry, being held by his father for the first time in years.

His relationship with Lyall had been strained over the years, but suddenly Lyall was the only person he had left. He knew that the old man loved him and tried to do his best, but the look of fear Lyall had after every transformation broke Remus. To Remus, he felt that he would always be considered one of the monsters that his father very clearly hated and despised. The fact that Remus was his son was never going to change that fact…

It was later on that day, at his father's, that the two were sitting together in the sitting room where Remus learned that Sirius was being brought to Azkaban. He could still remember the chill that ran down his spine as he imagined the disturbing scene of Sirius killing Peter. He had wanted to confront Sirius and find Peter, but that moment would now never come.

Remus quickly wiped away the tears that had been falling from his face, sitting up straight. Finally brought back to the present, back in his own home, he picked up his cup of tea and made a noise. He had been so deep in thought that he had let his tea grow cold. Resigned, Remus picked himself up off the chair and placed the cold cup of tea in the sink. He found his attention brought to Emelyn's room and quickly found himself sitting on her bed, looking around with a frown.

Emelyn's room had once been the room that James would stay in when he visited. It was small compared to the large rooms James had been used to growing up, but he never seemed to care. Any time he got to spend with Remus was more than good enough, no matter how small the bedroom may be.

"It's not the size of the room that matters, Moony, it's the size of the home," James had told him one day.

"Prongs, that makes absolutely no sense," Remus responded, giving his friend an amused expression.

Up until the day he died, James had insisted that the phrase he was using was correct. Remus wasn't too sure about that, but rather than ruin James's fun, he allowed his friend to continue.

"Did you put him up to that ridiculous phrase?" Lily had asked on one of her visits with James.

"Absolutely not," Remus replied. "I can't help that your husband makes things up and insists that they are the word of Merlin." Remus would give James a joking kiss on the cheek causing Lily to roll her eyes and give him a gentle punch on the arm.

For years Remus had left James's room unchanged, leaving the old Quidditch banners up on the walls and the clothes James had brought over still hanging in the closet. For a decade the room had remained unchanged until his entire world had been turned upside down once more.

The day Dumbledore arrived in his home, Remus was sure that he had died. After spending a long, intoxicated night on his couch, he was _sure_ that Albus Dumbledore was the one to greet him at the pearly gates. Or Hell. It was most definitely Hell, he was sure of it. A werewolf would never be considered pure enough for anything other than flames.

"Remus, I believe whatever it is you were planning to do will need to wait. Or, rather in this instance, never occur," Dumbledore said softly, reaching into his robes and pulling out a small vial filled with a midnight blue liquid. "Take this. I need you sober for what I'm going to tell you."

Remus took the vial from Dumbledore and then found himself listening to the strangest things he had ever heard. _Emelyn was alive_.

"That being said, it appears as though some work needs to be done to prepare for her arrival. And I don't mean just the house," Dumbledore had said, causing Remus to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"What do you mean, 'prepare for her arrival?'"

"I mean exactly that, Remus," Dumbledore had said simply. As much as Remus wanted to argue with the old wizard, the conversation was over. Still, he tried to have the man see reason; he was fighting a losing battle.

Before Dumbledore could Disapparate from the spot just in front of the door, Remus pulled the wizard back in with a final comment.

"If you had decided that Harry couldn't stay with Sirius, then why are you telling me that I need to take Emma? What makes the situation any more different?"

Dumbledore had grown quiet, his face set as he turned to Remus. "There's an entire world of difference, Remus. But now is not the time to discuss that. For now, you have work to do."

Dumbledore had disappeared as quickly as he came.

The world that Remus had come to accept had once again changed and he wasn't sure how to feel about it at the time. He had spent many days and many nights wishing for the day that Emelyn would reappear in his life, wanting to feel a connection with his sister. Now that the idea had become a reality, he had found himself extremely overwhelmed.

That little girl had taken his life and turned it upside down; to his amusement and absolute horror, he had found himself once again hopelessly wrapped around her finger. He was instantly catapulted back in time to the day that she was born, and the overly protective nature of the wolf became deeply rooted in his chest once more. The anxiety he had harbored until their meeting was swept away like a feather on a breeze. He would protect Emelyn, not only for Margaret but for himself, even if it was the very last thing he ever did.

Emelyn was his family; one of the missing pieces of his broken pack. He wasn't going to allow himself, or Moony, to lose that piece again. That first full moon after Dumbledore had broken the news had been one of the easiest transformations, he had been able to experience in years. It was like a part of him that had been swallowed up deep by the darkness was radiating anew, and placing itself firmly back in his heart.

Remus's gaze found the world outside of Emelyn's window, surprised that he had once again let so much time pass. He stood up from her bed, smoothing out her blanket and taking another fond look around the room. If he looked closely, he could still see the bright red paint that had lined the now pale-yellow walls. He sighed, realizing that he still had the rest of the night to get through.

Just before having a quiet dinner, Remus left the house to take a walk. He stopped by a flower shop, picking a simple bouquet of daisies. Lily, though her name suggested otherwise, never liked to receive lilies and much preferred simpler flowers. It had become common knowledge between the two and Remus had made it a point to give her a bouquet of daisies on her birthday and for special days, such as the birth of Harry. His face was set in a grim line as he realized that the only time bought her flowers now was on the anniversary of the Potter's deaths.

Remus pulled his jacket on feeling the chill in the air and the house. He preferred to visit James and Lily's grave at night knowing that there would be fewer visitors. Though the number of people that stopped by their grave had dwindled over the years, it had become routine; he liked routine.

He took a moment to give himself a final inspection in the mirror. He frowned at the deep-set lines in his face and gently fingered a new wrinkle that seemed to arrive overnight. At the ripe age of thirty-one, he felt as though he were seventy. The transformations had caught up quickly over the years but didn't seem as terrible lately. Remus fidgeted with his sleeve for a moment, delaying the moment before heading on his way.

Arriving in Godric's Hollow, Remus had to still himself. He knew that Minerva was needed at Hogwarts, but he silently wished that his old professor was joining him. Walking through the quiet streets, Remus shivered. The energy in Godric's Hollow had never seemed to recover, even with more and more Muggle families moving into the area. Everything felt subdued and wrong.

Walking through Godric's Hollow now, no one would even know that it had been a wonderful little wizarding community. The families had all been close-knit, but after the attack at the Potter's home, it was never the same. Wizarding families slowly moved out and Muggle families moved in. He thought bitterly for a moment how Sirius had mentioned the idea that he would buy the house next door to James and Lily's after the war was over, a place for both of them to stay; a place where both Remus and Sirius could live just as happily as James and Lily.

Sirius had promised him a life that he would never get to see, and he hated him for it. He hated Sirius for betraying James and Lily. He hated Sirius for abandoning him. He hated Sirius for being Sirius.

Arriving at James and Lily's graves, Remus realized that the turnout had not been as modest as the past few years. Letters written to "The Boy Who Lived" dotted the base of the headstone along with dozens of floral arrangements bearing messages of love and hope.

Remus gently added his bouquet to the large expanse of flowers that took up most of the area.

"Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Prongs," Remus spoke quietly into the silence, a sad smile crossing his face. He knew that Lily would be rolling his eyes at him at her new nickname. "It's been ten years; can you believe it? A lot has happened recently…"

Remus let out a shuddering breath and lowered himself next to the graves, pulling his long legs up to his chest.

"We finally got Emma back," Remus said quietly. "She's in the same year as Harry. Can you believe that? I can't. Do you remember the first time you brought Harry over to my dad's? It was the rare moment that Dumbledore let you two out of the house, although I think you two would've snuck out anyway. Sirius and I had the rare opportunity to watch Emma together and all Harry could do was cry because she had accidentally hit him with the toy broom Sirius bought him." A dry chuckle left his throat as the memory passed through his thoughts.

"Emma couldn't understand why Harry was crying so much until she had accidentally flown into the wall with Harry on the back. Do you remember how hard it was to not laugh at the two of them after? We were all terrified that they were both terribly hurt as we couldn't get either to stop crying. We realized quickly it was only because they had scared themselves, but Sirius was ready to take them both to St. Mungo's right away."

A slightly happier smile twitched at the corner of his lips, remembering how panicked both Sirius and James had become. Lily was the first to calm both of them down before turning her attention to Harry and Emelyn who she held in both of her arms, rocking and singing to them until they stopped crying.

"But then James had to go and ruin everything that night. We had _just_ gotten them both to sleep and we were all laying in a pile next to the fire…we really loved sitting on the floor next to that fireplace, didn't we? Well, I suppose it was one of the few times that we could all spend together and not have to worry about the war outside for a little while... Anyway, James had been fighting back his laughter most of the night and had let out that absolutely bizarre trumpeting sound as he tried to stifle the noise.

"That was what did it – that trumpet noise. I was fine until Sirius started to giggle, and you remember how Sirius giggled – just like a little girl who had gotten the full run of Honeyduke's for a shopping spree. We all broke down laughing and Harry and Emma woke right back up. Lily, you were so angry at us as we kept laughing and laughing. Well, that was until you threatened to castrate each of us in turn…that part wasn't so funny. When we told Peter later, he thought it was brilliant, but the rest of us weren't too sure. You were right terrifying, I'm almost sure that your hair was on fire."

Remus stayed next to their graves, talking about his anxieties over having to figure out how to take care of Emelyn, how he hoped that she and Harry would eventually become friends, how he worried about not being able to take care of her the way that she needed him to. He talked about how he was excited and terrified to bring her more into his life and how he wished that Margaret would be able to see how much she had grown. He stayed and talked until someone showed up a few hours later when the sky had grown dark and his breath was seen clearly in the cold.

"I miss you two more than you know," Remus said quietly, reluctantly leaving their graves, and returning home with a faint _pop_.

No sooner did Remus settle himself on his couch did he hear a clicking on the window. He looked over the back of the couch, giving a start as he saw an owl with an official-looking letter in its beak. Recognizing the Hogwarts seal right away made his stomach drop. _Something happened to Emelyn_. He couldn't help the sudden fear that raged in his chest, ripping open the window and taking the letter with shaking hands.

The first time Remus read through the letter he wasn't sure if he was reading it correctly. As Remus took a second and third pass the letter, he found himself laughing through the tears that had started to fall out of fear. In one hand he clutched the letter and with the other he held his chest, feeling his heart rate slowly returning to normal.

Of course, Emelyn would somehow find herself locked in a room with a troll. Though Minerva hadn't given much detail, he could immediately see himself in a similar situation with his friends. They had never been trapped with a troll, but if the opportunity had arisen, he knew they would've all ran in headfirst.

For a moment he could picture himself, James, and Sirius trying to take on a massive troll together with Peter standing off to the sides. He wanted terribly to be angry with Emelyn but found himself incredibly proud of the girl.

He wiped away his tears on his sleeve, surprised to realize that the smile he wore on his face was one of genuine joy. A wave of guilt ripped through him, twisting his stomach and making him dizzy. He immediately sunk back onto the couch, rubbing his face with a heavy sigh. Remus realized that Minerva would expect him to write to Emelyn about what had happened, but he didn't feel that the poor girl needed to be in any more distress than she probably was.

With that in mind, he also felt that he needed to keep up appearances that he was taking his new role seriously. A smile played at the corner of his lips as he made his way to his study, his letter already planned out in his mind. He would be sure to send Emelyn a howler, but he was going to make sure that she knew he wasn't mad. Remus could almost picture the look on Minerva's face in the morning and he found himself already looking forward to Emelyn's next letter telling him everything.

Maybe Halloween wasn't so bad anymore…


	6. Your Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some sweet holiday fluff following the events of Christmas dinner in Dark Tranquility

Emelyn rubbed her eyes as she walked down the stairs. It was late, and she had woken up with her stomach rumbling. She knew that there was a stash of crisps in the kitchen, and she planned to bring a bag back to her room. Apparently, she hadn't eaten as much as she thought at dinner. In her defense, having the Moons show up for Christmas dinner was unexpected. As she reached the bottom floor, she touched her fingers to her lips with a smile.

The sound of a piano being played met her ears, drawing her out of her thoughts. She had always eyed the upright piano that sat in the dining room with curiosity, but no one ever played. It just sat in the far corner of the room, facing away from the entranceway.

It seemed odd for it to be so late, and someone was playing. When Emelyn left her room, she could have sworn that it was 2 in the morning, but she didn't pay attention to see if anyone's door was opened or closed. She was on a quest for crisps, and her bleary eyes didn't care to focus long enough to pay attention.

She padded quietly through the living room and down the hall towards the dining room. The tune seemed familiar, more modern – Elton John? A faint light was on, and she recalled a small lamp attached to the piano. Since when did her grandfather listen to Elton John? She peered cautiously around the doorway and had to do a double-take. It wasn't Lyall playing, it was Remus.

Remus continued to play a few more notes before he turned and looked over his shoulder. He twisted himself around to give her a soft smile, not minding Emelyn's intrusion. "I thought that was you," he said, motioning for her to join him. Emelyn walked over shyly and sat down next to Remus on the piano bench. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I was hungry," Emelyn said, giving Remus a sheepish grin. She pressed a random key on the piano, listening to the noise. "I didn't know that you played."

"Your mother played as well," Remus said, pressing the key next to the one Emelyn had pressed. "Your grandmother insisted that we both learn. She taught us both, actually."

"Really?"

"Really. Maybe I'll teach you someday."

Emelyn pressed another key and grinned as Remus played a chord that fit well with the key. She pressed another key, and he did the same. "What were you playing? That wasn't Elton John, was it?"

"Er, it was, actually," Remus said, chuckling at Emelyn's awe-struck look. "It was Elton John's 'Your Song.' Do you know it?"

"It's Elton John. Who doesn't know it?" Emelyn gently bumped into his arm with a smile.

"Probably most of the magical community," Remus admitted.

"Then they're missing out," Emelyn giggled. Her eyes widened as her stomach growled again.

"You really are hungry, aren't you?" Remus raised an eyebrow, amused at how loud Emelyn's stomach was. Emelyn nodded, covering her cheeks with her hands in the hopes she could hide her heated cheeks. "Why don't you get something to eat?"

"I want to watch you play," Emelyn said, looking at Remus hopefully.

Remus pulled Emma into a one-armed hug. "All right – one song," he said before his face split into a conspiratorial grin and a wink. "I think we could both use a sandwich. Dinner was stressful, no?"

"It was," Emelyn nodded. "What are you going to play?"

"Any requests?"

"You could finish what you were playing," Emelyn suggested with a small shrug.

"Why don't you sing with me?"

"Sing?"

"Why not? Do you know the words?"

"It's _Elton John_ ," Emelyn said, rolling her eyes. "But why don't you sing it?"

"Oh, right, yes. I suppose you're right," Remus said with a grin as he faced the keys. "I guess I can sing by myself since someone is shy tonight."

Emelyn smiled back, resting her head on his arm. "Is this okay?"

"Of course," Remus said, hitting a few test keys before starting to play again.

When Remus wasn't trying to be funny, Emelyn had to admit that he wasn't a terrible singer. She was still in awe that he could play the piano, and she wondered what he _couldn't_ do because he seemed to know so much.

"Join me for the chorus?" Remus asked, extending out the verse's notes. Emelyn shook her head, but then changed her mind halfway through the chorus. "Ah, there she is," Remus said, letting Emelyn finish the chorus. He picked the second verse up, and with a gentle nudge, Emelyn blushed and sang the entirety of the chorus. Remus finished the last few lines of the song, letting the notes fade out and looked at Emelyn as she hugged his arm.

"You know, life truly is wonderful with you in the world," he said quietly, pulling his arm out of Emelyn's grip. Remus took Emelyn's face in his hands and kissed her forehead, smiling at her quiet hum. "All right, that's enough of that. Still hungry?"

"Yeah," Emelyn said quietly, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. She wrinkled her nose with a cheeky grin.

Remus shook his head, giving Emelyn a gentle nudge. "Come on, let's go eat."


	7. Baby Teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you write something really heavy (several things, really) and you just need to write something incredibly stupid. Just a small slice of life moment from the summer before Emma's second year.
> 
> Also, I'm not sure if this needs one or not, but just in case
> 
> *** **TW: loose baby teeth and the eventual removal** ***
> 
> or, as I lovingly dub this one, the time Remus Lupin almost loses his shit over Emma having a loose tooth

There were few things that Emelyn did that drove Remus absolutely mental, but her lack of desire to remove her loose tooth was one of them. It had started innocently enough, just the subtle mention that her right canine was loose, but then it escalated.

It honestly hadn't been one of the things Remus ever considered about having a child. He had lost most of his baby teeth early on as the wolf significantly accelerated the process. He could vaguely remember James, Sirius, and Peter being in various stages of gapped tooth smiles, but they never made it a big deal. Well…not always at least.

There was one time where James insisted on removing a tooth with a snitch and a time where the boys all gathered to take Peter's tooth with a string attached to the door, but it wasn't a big deal. It was just a part of them growing up, and like most things to eleven and twelve-year-old boys, it was _hilarious._

However, with Emelyn, it was a huge deal. The sweet and brave girl that Remus knew turned into an anxious mess. She did _not_ want that tooth to come out.

Remus's eye was practically twitching as he watched her one night as Emelyn worked on her summer work. Emelyn had taken up her usual spot on the floor in front of the couch so she could work at the coffee table. It was her favorite spot to be, and he didn't mind having company – in fact, he enjoyed hers very much so – but he could _not_ deal with the loose tooth.

Emelyn would start to wiggle it with her tongue and then stop. Then she would gingerly wiggle it with her finger, almost in thought, and then stop. There were a few times where he had to cringe as she would use the end of her quill to wiggle the infernal tooth. He just wanted to rip the feather out of her hand so she wouldn't stick it in her mouth. It was clean, of course, but the idea of it was gross. It had been three weeks already, but the thing was hanging on. Even worse, he could see the start of her adult tooth trying to break through just behind the offending fang, but she refused to take it out. He wasn't even sure why it bothered him so much, but it was. Remus Lupin was _not_ about to lose his cool over a tooth.

He put his book to the side and cleared his throat, drawing Emelyn's attention away from her book with wide eyes. She had one finger still poised on her canine, and she slowly pulled it away.

"Yes?" Emelyn asked, a worried crease forming between her brows. She stared at him for a moment before slowly putting her quill down on the table. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Remus said slowly, leaning forward in his chair, resting his arms on his knees. He gave her a gentle smile, knowing Emelyn would be less than thrilled by his proposition. The more innocent he appeared, the better – maybe, just maybe, he could get her to agree. "I just thought I could help you take that tooth out."

Clearly, his attempt didn't work as her eyes grew wide and filled with child-like terror.

"No, that's okay, Re," Emelyn said shakily, unconsciously wiggling the tooth with her tongue as she turned back to her work. She watched him cautiously out of the corner of her eye. Seeing that he had yet to move from his position, she shot him a slightly anxious look. "What?"

"It's just, sweetheart, it would take a second," Remus said, trying to implore Emelyn to see reason, but she shook her head fervently. "Really, Emma, it'll be nothing. You won't even miss it."

"How do you know?" she asked, planting her hands on the ground, poised to make her dash away.

Remus shifted ever so slightly, and Emelyn glared at him with all the venom a twelve-year-old girl could manage. He suppressed the desire to roll his eyes and rubbed his forehead as he tried to figure out how to proceed. All he had to do was get her to the point that she would let him yank the useless thing out of her mouth.

"Well, your other tooth is trying to make its appearance. What if you tried biting into an apple? It'll come right out." he suggested, hoping that she would take the bait.

"No," Emelyn said slowly. "Re, really, it's fine. It doesn't bother me."

 _It bothers me_ , Remus wanted to say, but he bit his tongue as he tried to figure out his next move.

She began to clean up her things, closing her books and putting them in neat piles on the table. Clearly unnerved by the situation, she was determined to make a quick getaway. Remus had no intention of letting that happen. He was making sure the blasted tooth was gone that night.

Taking a chance, Remus stood from his armchair and transferred himself to the couch. He sat just next to Emelyn, his knee grazing her shoulder, and she froze. Remus began to stroke her hair, and she relaxed into his touch for a brief moment before tensing up again. She must have had some idea of what he was trying to do as she budged herself over an inch. Any more space would be suspicious, but this allowed her _some_ sort of distance. Emelyn could be far too smart for him sometimes – she couldn't be easily swayed or won over.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," Emelyn said simply. She stood slowly, and she quickly realized the error of her ways as Remus captured her around the middle and pulled her on the couch next to him.

"Please, let me just take it out!" Remus said, wincing at Emelyn's shriek. "It won't hurt, I promise!"

"It won't hurt _you!_ " Emelyn wailed, struggling against his grip. She felt no remorse as a misplaced elbow slammed into his ribs, and she was finally able to escape his clutches. With a triumphant yell, Emelyn booked it to her room and slammed the door.

"Merlin, she's strong," Remus groaned, rubbing his side. He stood up, pulling his wand from his pocket and made his way down the hallway to her room. Remus wondered vaguely if Emelyn really thought locking her door was going to save her. He cast a silent _Alohomora_ and snickered at her horrified screech as the lock clicked, and the door opened.

He opened the door fully and threw up a quick shield charm as several pillows and Emelyn's teddybear Boris were hurled in his direction. "Emma, are you forgetting that I'm a wizard?" Remus asked, his eyebrows raising at the petulant frown that crossed her face. "I can do magic, you know."

"It's not fair!" Emelyn lamented, throwing herself face down onto her mattress.

Remus sighed and rubbed his temples. Was this what he had to look forward to with Emelyn growing up? He was already dreading it. Only a few weeks ago, he was grateful that she had gotten to a point where she felt comfortable being herself, but now? Merlin save him for when she became a teenager.

Tucking his wand back into his pocket, he carefully nudged the fallen pillows on the floor out of the way and sat down on the bed. He rubbed Emelyn's back gently, and she let out a pathetic moan.

"Why are you so afraid of me helping you take that tooth out?" Remus asked.

Emelyn's voice came out as a muffled shout, "Because it's _my_ tooth!"

"It's…Emma, it's loose. It needs to come out."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does."

"No."

"Yes."

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand and took a deep breath. _Merlin, help me_ , he thought to himself. He gently gripped Emelyn's arm and turned her over onto her back, and she growled at him. No longer having the safety of the mattress to hide her face into, she shot him the dirtiest look he had ever seen. If she wasn't so pint-sized, it might have been terrifying.

"May I please just check it? I'm almost certain it's more than ready to come out," Remus said as sweetly as he could muster.

Emelyn's nostrils flared as she took in a deep breath. "Why?"

"Because it's doing you no good just sitting there."

"Why can't it just come out on its own?" Emelyn pouted.

"Because it needs help to come out. It's been three weeks already, nearly four." Remus pat his leg. "Come on, rest your head here. Let me check it. That's all I'll do, I promise."

Emelyn's gaze was skeptical, and her eyes were sharp as she studied him. Not finding whatever it was she was looking for, she edged herself up the mattress and settled her head on his lap. She stubbornly kept her mouth closed and glared up at Remus, folding her arms over chest.

"Fy nghariad, I can't check it if you don't open your mouth and let me see," Remus said, biting back his aggravation.

Rolling her eyes, Emma opened her mouth. She refused to take her eyes off of him and watched warily as he lifted his hand. Her mouth snapped closed as he got close, and she frowned.

"What are you _actually_ going to do?"

 _So close_.

Remus smiled at her, brushing her fringe off of her forehead. "I'm just going to wiggle it myself. Now, will you let me check it?"

Emelyn's eyes narrowed, and she let out an indignant huff. "Fine," she said reproachfully, opening her mouth again. The moment Remus got close, her mouth shut again. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, trying not to show how annoyed he was becoming.

"How do I know you're not tricking me?" she asked accusingly.

"You don't," Remus said with a shrug.

"Re!"

"I'm being honest. Do you want me to lie to you?"

That seemed to placate Emelyn slightly, and her tense shoulders dropped. "No," she muttered.

"Then just trust me," Remus said, gently running his fingers through her hair. "I wouldn't ever do anything to you that would seriously hurt you. I promise. If it truly and honestly hurts you, I won't do anything. But if it's ready to come out, I would really rather just take it out."

Another pout crossed Emelyn's face as she considered his words. Finally, she sighed, staring at the ceiling as she opened her mouth again. The annoyed look on her face told him that she was less than thrilled by the entire situation, but she relented anyway. Deciding that she had no desire to bear witness to what was sure to happen, she clamped her eyes shut.

Remus nearly let out a victorious shout at Emelyn's definitive resignation. He felt absolutely ridiculous wiggling her loose tooth, and he couldn't help his eye-roll at just how loose it really was. Remus was more than positive that she would have no idea that it even came out if he were to just give it a light tug, but he promised her. With all the delicacy he could manage, he held onto Emelyn's tooth between his thumb and his pointer finger. It would do him no good to scare her when he got this far.

Perhaps a little bit of a trick would be worth it. It was an incredibly simple trick, maybe a bit rude, really, but if it worked…

"Does this hurt?" Remus asked, silently praying that she did exactly what he wanted her to do.

Emelyn shook her head, and Remus gave a silent cheer as the tooth dislodged itself with the action. Other than the slight twitch of her brow, there was no indication that she had any idea. He pulled his fingers away, holding onto her tooth, almost as if it were a prize. To some degree, it was – he didn't have to deal with her playing with the damned thing anymore.

It had been beyond ready to come out as it left only the faintest hint of aggravated gum behind. "Emma, open your eyes."

Her eyes shot open and met his gaze. Emelyn blinked twice, her forehead wrinkling, and he brought her tooth into view. An aggravated gasp escaped her lips, and she glared at him. "You tricked me!"

"I did," Remus said matter-of-factly. He looked at the tooth held between his fingers and smirked at her. "You didn't even know that it came out – and you did it yourself."

"No, _you_ did!" she grumbled.

"Technically, I just held onto it. You're the one who shook her head."

Emelyn pouted, unable to argue that point. Her tongue found the empty space where her tooth had been, and she sighed, clamping her mouth shut. "Thanks," she muttered, sitting up. She shot him a much milder, aggravated look.

"You're welcome, love," Remus said. "Now, go to bed so that the tooth fairy can visit."

That earned Remus a very teenaged eye roll. "The tooth fairy isn't real," Emelyn said, exasperated.

"You don't know that," Remus said, ruffling Emelyn's hair as he stood up. "Only difference is we don't put our teeth under our pillows. I'll make sure this goes where it needs to go."

"You're ridiculous," Emelyn said, standing up to pick up her pillows from the floor with a withering stare.

Remus only smiled in response and bid Emelyn a good night.

Late in the night, Remus couldn't resist tucking several bars of Honeydukes chocolate under her pillow. She would find it amusing when she finally woke up after pretending she was annoyed for a few minutes. He had planned to give them to her just before school started, but he could pay the village another visit to pick up more. Emelyn was worth the trip, and he delighted in such a small victory.

Chocolate was a very small price to pay for finally not having to deal with Emelyn wiggling that blasted tooth another day more.


	8. The Life of a Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone describes the life of a rock.
> 
> _Set during year three:[Daughter of the Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24729547/chapters/59779345)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've ever wondered how absolutely ridiculous Emma and Persephone can be, well...

Emma and Persephone visited the library of Hogwarts far less frequently than one would think. As much as Emma liked books, she found Madam Pince terrifying. She knew the witch enjoyed order in her library, but the woman would leer down the backs of students making sure the precious tomes remained uninjured. Persephone, true to her namesake, enjoyed being outdoors, bare feet dug into the earth. She preferred the simplicity of the flowers and the gentle roll of minute waves against the edge of the Black Lake.

As much as Persephone wanted to be outside, the girls had been unceremoniously dropped off at the library by Remus. It was only with his insistence that they finally "take the time to study," but only Emma was heeding that suggestion. Persephone was too busy thinking about other things.

"Em?"

"Yeah, Eff?"

Persephone grew quiet, waiting patiently for Emma to finally look up from her book. A long, drawn-out sigh escaped Emma's lips, pulling a smirk from Persephone. Emma was so like her father, it wasn't funny. Persephone found it adorable, and she was almost perpetually amused at the tiny things most people would never notice.

When Emma and Remus smiled, they both had similar crinkles around their eyes. They could share looks with each other and know exactly what the other was thinking. When Remus was teaching a more relaxed class, letting them work on homework or reading from the textbook, every move was mirrored. While sitting at their desks, when one would prop their head on their hand, the other would follow suit almost immediately. They never even looked at each other, they just did it subconsciously as if they knew. They had a nearly unspoken language that consisted of small touches throughout the day that stood in for quiet reassurances. It was sweet, and it was so entirely them.

The first time Persephone had finally been able to stay at the cottage overnight, she was in absolute awe of how in sync the two were. It was never quiet in their home, but it was the type of noise that faded easily into the background. Music was nearly always played, even at night because one of them would forget the radio or the record player was on. Persephone understood quickly that Remus needed Emma just as much as she needed him. The time they lost was clearly made up in no time at all.

Mornings were controlled chaos as they worked together to prepare breakfast, singing to whatever song was on the radio. Mugs and dishes were pulled from cabinets as the other would grab the sugar, weaving expertly around each other. Sometimes there was dancing, one of them pulling the other into ridiculous waltz' or overdramatic jives. Mornings were full of laughter and the perfect amount of energy to get through the day. It was infectious.

Persephone was sure that she had never blushed more in her life when Emma pulled her into an energetic dance to a song called "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." Persephone had never heard the song before and only knew that it was Muggle. She enjoyed the entire moment far more than she would ever admit. Lunch was a quiet affair, left to the girls. But dinner was brilliant. Simple but brilliant.

Conversation was had – incredibly intelligent conversation. About books, about Muggle movies or music, sometimes even current events – _Muggle_ current events. Persephone had never experienced such a world before. Persephone's half-blood home was presented with a pure-blood air like most of her friends, but Remus never shied away from the Muggle world. It challenged so many of the things Persephone knew.

Emma and Remus were carefree and open, pushing each other to think. Their conversations weren't full of frivolous and airy comments about pointless gossip or the goings-on of the Ministry of Magic. Persephone, who had always considered herself smart, often felt surprisingly at a loss.

Whenever a Muggle-related topic came up that Persephone didn't understand, Emma would immediately blush and apologize. She would leap up from wherever she was to track down exactly what it was they were talking about. It didn't matter if she was in the middle of eating, Emma _had_ to find what she needed to help. Often times, Emma's search would involve Remus being the one to complete the quest. He seemed to have a near-encyclopedic knowledge of everything in the house. They always made sure to include her in any way they could.

Persephone had to admit that she was jealous of their relationship. The Lupin family was comfortable and not at all stuffy like the Moons. Emma had somehow brought out some latent maternal instincts in Sage, which was nice, but it wasn't the same. Persephone couldn't lay her head on her mother's shoulder and have an arm slip around her to pull her close. Persephone didn't get affectionate kisses on the top of her head or multiple kisses on the cheek in quick succession that would cause laughter and playful shoves. Persephone didn't feel she received the same fond and loving look that Remus gave Emma nearly as often from her parents. Persephone couldn't make silly faces at either of her parents and have them returned daily. Persephone's life was regimented and routine. Emma's was spirited and relaxed.

"Yes?" Emma repeated, raising an eyebrow at Persephone. She had gotten lost in thought, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Do you know how much like Remus you are?" Persephone asked, propping her head on her hands as she stared at Emma.

Emma frowned, but there was a glimmer in her eye that gave away her amusement. It was a comment that she had heard far too often with Remus in the castle but had only recently started to accept. Emma was her father's daughter, not just in looks but in everything, and she couldn't change it. It was hard for Persephone to imagine that there was a time that Emma didn't look completely like Remus, but magic was wonderful and could fix things. Emma had never looked more comfortable with herself in her life with the vestiges of her birth father erased from her face.

After a moment, Emma shook her head, scratching her nose with the end of her quill, and turned back to what she was writing.

"Too much, apparently. Did I tell you that just the other day, Dad and I were talking in the hall, and McGonagall stopped by and pointed out we were standing the exact same way," Emma said with a quiet laugh. "I'm not sure who looked more embarrassed or who tried to fix their stance quicker. Pretty sure we looked rather foolish as McGonagall laughed the whole rest of the way down the hall. I mean, can you believe it? McGonagall laughing? Absolutely mad." Emma froze and looked at Persephone curiously. "But I'm sure that's not what you wanted from me, is it?"

"How do you know that?" Persephone asked, feigning outrage at the very idea.

"Because it's you, Eff," Emma said simply, returning to her writing. She gave a small shrug, a move entirely too reminiscent of Remus, and the corners of her lips suddenly twisted up, her smile reaching her eyes. "I know you. Plus, you've had a dumb smirk on your face the entire time."

"I have not!"

There was a loud and annoyed "Shh!" that came from the direction of Madam Pince, and Emma nearly dissolved into nervous giggles. The last thing Emma needed was Pince to come by to tell them off, and she gave Persephone a playful shove.

"I have not had a dumb smirk on my face," Persephone hissed. She let out a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. "I was just thinking."

Another exhausted sigh left Emma, but she looked up at Persephone. Emma knew that she wasn't going to get any more work done. "Thinking about what, Eff?"

"Well…I was wondering what it would be like to be a rock."

Emma's face cycled through several emotions at once. First, she was surprised, her eyes widening comically. Then, she was confused, her eyebrows knitting together in near consternation. Finally, Emma settled on bemused. She rubbed a hand over her mouth as she stared at Persephone, doing some very quick thinking.

It almost made Persephone grin again. She would never get over how like Remus Emma truly was.

"I don't understand," Emma said slowly, almost as if she was trying to work out a challenging puzzle. "You were wondering what it would be like to be a rock?"

"Yeah," Persephone said with a wide grin.

"And why were you wondering what it would be like to be a rock?"

"Well," Persephone started, leaning towards Emma, a look of pure delight on her face. "I just thought it would be rather fascinating."

"Fascinating to be a rock…"

"Think about it. You're this rock…"

"Okay, I'm a rock…now what?"

"Maybe you have come from another big rock. You're a sliver of a big rock."

"I'm a sliver from a big rock? So, Baby Big Rock."

"Yes, precisely. A pretty big sliver of rock, really. Maybe you're from…I don't know, maybe the early 1100's. You're fresh off the big rock, just ready to start your rock journey."

"Uh-huh…"

"So, all of these crazy Earth things happen, and you just keep going on from year to year. Perhaps a bird picks you up, or another animal accidentally eats you, but every year you move from place to place."

"Eff, how big of a rock are we talking, and what animal? Not that I would particularly want to be a rock coming out of an animal's arse, but -"

"Shh, listen!" Persephone smacked Emma's arm. "You're missing the point! You started off in one place, and then you wound up completely different, and maybe 500 years have passed, so it's the 1600's. And you're _still_ a rock."

"Eff…I'm pretty sure a rock would still be a rock," Emma said with a quiet laugh.

"Mate, _no_. You start off as this massive rock sliver, and then you're slowly getting smaller."

"Right, my apologies. Wasn't sure how big of a rock we were talking."

"Shut it! So, you're this smaller rock in the 1600s, but you've been stuck on the same continent. Suddenly humans have boats, and then a small child picks you up, and then you're brought to an entirely _new_ continent."

"Right…"

"So now you're continuing your rock journey somewhere else, somewhere exotic. Maybe there are other rocks just like you, maybe there aren't. You don't know! But you've also lived this crazy life as a rock on a completely different continent for 500 years."

"Eff, does this have a point?"

"It does! Let me finish." Persephone sat up straighter. "Now just imagine you spend 200 years in the same spot, so now we're in the 1800s, and things are getting wild. Society is moving, things are changing – transportation is starting to really pick up. Suddenly you're somewhere new all over again. Go another 100 years, we're in the 1900s. Now trains and planes are a thing. Someone once again picks you up and carries you to another continent, but you're such a teeny tiny little rock, almost a pebble."

"Okay, so I've made three international travels without a passport. Got it."

" _No_ , stupid," Persephone said, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Ugh, you're not getting it."

Emma scratched her head in confusion. "What am I not understanding? I'm a rock that's somehow traveled the world. What is the point you're trying to make?"

"The point I'm trying to make is think about how much you can _see_ as a rock. You can start off as this massive thing from hundreds of years ago and then become a teeny, tiny speck of sand and still see so much of the world. Think of how amazing that would be!"

Persephone looked at Emma expectantly, a broad smile on her face. Emma only nodded at her, a skeptical look on her face.

"Eff, is this your way of telling me you want to go outside?"

Persephone let out a long and overdramatic breath. "Oh, Merlin, please."

Emma rolled her eyes, packing up her things. "All right, fine. Let's just stop and tell Dad where we're going. I think he said he would be in the staff room. Don't need him throwing a fit if he comes back, and we're not here, and we never said a word." Persephone was up and ready to go, bouncing anxiously on the balls of her feet before Emma had even put her book in her bag.

When she was finally ready to go, Emma motioned for Persephone to lead the way. Like a very spirited parade leader, Persephone happily obliged.

Halfway towards the staff lounge, Emma burst into a fit of laughter, doubling over with tears of mirth in her eyes. Persephone whirled around to look at Emma, confusion written all over her face. "What?" Persephone asked, pouting slightly at not being let in on the joke.

"Eff, you know rocks don't have eyes, right?" Emma managed to say through her laughter. "I was just wondering how a rock could 'see' the world."

"Oh, shut it," Persephone said, letting out an indignant huff.

"Never," Emma smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a random prompt that I stumbled upon on Tumblr - something about writing about the life of a rock. I literally have no idea who the prompt came from, but it made me giggle. It was from a few months ago, but I saw it and I _had_ to write it because it was perfect for Emma and Persephone. 
> 
> It was fun to write a small snippet from Persephone's viewpoint, plus she's an overall fun character to write.


	9. Chocolate and Raspberries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one shot corresponds with [Chapter 43 - War and Peace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24729547/chapters/64576306) of Daughter of the Moon. Read that first and then come back to this~

Emma stared at the clock on the wall, waiting impatiently for the clock to hit 3:30 so that she could be released from her personal prison. At nearly 9 years old (in a few months!), Emma Nickels should love school, but she didn't. She certainly enjoyed the reprieve it gave her from the children's home, but she just wanted to leave. Emma preferred to be out in the world, reading instead of sitting in a classroom.

The weather was beautiful, the sun was actually shining, and she had play money for the week. Hot chocolate and a blueberry scone from the café near the park by the river sounded perfect. She had a book tucked away in her bag that she brought from the children's home, and she planned to sit in the park for a while just to read. As long as she was back by five, she was free to do whatever she wanted. Any later would lead to her getting in trouble, and she didn't want to lose any of the few privileges she had.

Maths was never her favorite subject. Sure, she could do the arithmetic, but she didn't enjoy it. She could add and subtract and could even multiply and divide reasonably well. She could find the angles of a parallelogram and knew the differences between parallel and perpendicular lines. She could do all of those things, and perhaps a little bit more, but she _hated_ that it was her last lessons of the day.

All she wanted to do was go outside and read, or draw, or even _write_. She did the last far less than she would read, but a fair bit more than she drew, but she couldn't do any of that while in maths. Sometimes she would doodle in the margins of her notebook, but Mrs. Bolton didn't like that and would give her a reprimand. Emma didn't like getting reprimands. If she got too many, Mrs. Bolton would make her do _lines,_ and she hated doing lines even more than she hated maths.

Emma watched as the clock's hands moved slower and slower until finally –

"I dismiss you, not the bell! Everyone sit back down," Mrs. Bolton said sharply as the bell rang, ignoring the resounding groans from the rest of the class. Mrs. Bolton continued to teach her lesson as if the bell never went off, and ten minutes later, the class was finally allowed to leave.

The walk to the café seemed like the longest walk she had ever been on. Time as an eight-year-old always seemed to move strangely. The more you wanted something, the longer it seemed to take, but the more fun you had, the less time seemed to exist. The walk was practically excruciating with how long it took.

Finally, the café came into view, and Emma practically ran to the tiny shop. She adjusted her messenger bag over her shoulder and stepped in, breathing in the scent of the pastries and the coffee and the tea that permeated the air. She loved the café for the smell alone, and she would stay there to work, but the owners didn't like children to loiter. It didn't matter that Emma was well-behaved; the owners would have none of it. However, they didn't mind taking her money.

She dutifully queued up behind the two people already waiting, and she waited and waited and waited.

When it was her turn, Emma had already rehearsed her order several times in her mind. It was much easier for her to talk when she rehearsed what she was going to say. She didn't yet understand the concept of anxiety, but she always got shaky when she had to order something for herself. Or talk in front of the class. Or really talk at all out of fear someone would make fun of her.

"'Lo there, what would you like?" the cashier asked. She was an older teenage girl, her auburn hair pulled up in a high ponytail. Emma thought she looked kind enough with her brown eyes and polite smile.

"One small hot chocolate and a blueberry scone," Emma said confidently. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she didn't stutter over her words. Things were going well.

"That'll be three Pounds thirty-five," the cashier said, waiting patiently for Emma to pay.

"Oh, right," Emma said, feeling her cheeks heat up. She almost forgot that she had to pay!

She unclasped the front of her bag and reached into the main pocket, and pulled out her change purse. Emma tipped the contents of her change purse into her hand, already salivating at the idea of how wonderful her scone was going to taste.

The sweet taste in her mouth turned to a bitter tang as she realized that she had a _big_ problem. She didn't have enough money.

Emma froze slightly as she began to count out her money, trying to make sure that she was looking at the coins correctly. A whine escaped her lips, and she felt herself start to get shaky.

How could she be so stupid? How did she _forget_? Jocelyn had practically accosted her for most of her play money that morning. She was a little over 2 Pounds short of being able to make her purchase. Emma thought she had more coins, but Jocelyn never left her with much.

Embarrassed tears filled her eyes as she nervously recounted her money. Perhaps she had missed something somewhere, she thought to herself. Maybe that 50 pence coin was actually a quid. Perhaps she had several of those, and she was just looking at all of the coins wrong. Deep down, Emma knew that she didn't have enough, but she was too afraid to tell the cashier that. It was already bad enough she was in the children's home.

She could feel eyes boring into the back of her skull, and her entire body started to grow hot. This was terrible, this was embarrassing, she was _so, so, stupid_. They were going to call the cops. They were going to kick her out. The world was going to end, and this was the absolute worst thing that could ever happen to her in her life.

"How much was it, again?" asked a man's voice, startling Emma out of her thoughts.

"It's three Pounds thirty-five," said the cashier, turning to look at the man. Emma looked up from the coins in her hand just as a fiver was placed down on the counter.

"Keep the change," he said to the cashier. He placed a gentle hand on Emma's shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. "I've got it. Put your money away, sweetheart," he added softly before stepping away.

Emma stared at the 5 Pound note on the counter, looked at the coins in her hand, and turned to look at her mysterious savior. No one had ever done such a kind thing for her before, and certainly not a stranger she'd never met before. She only managed to catch the cover of the book tucked underneath his arm – _War and Peace_ \- and a striped shirt. Was it a Sainsbury's uniform?

"Sir!" she shouted, hoping to get his attention, but he seemed to walk faster. Before she could say another word, the door of the café opened, and he was gone. She frowned, dropped her money back into her coin purse, and stepped aside to let the person behind her place their order.

A part of her wanted to run out after him to thank him, but she remained where she stood. It would do her no good to leave before her order was given to her. Perhaps he would be just outside, and she could thank him properly.

After what felt like far too long, Emma graciously took her hot chocolate and bagged scone, and rushed out the door. She peered one way down the street, and then the other, but she couldn't find the man. It didn't help that she didn't know what he looked like, but the book was a clue. Acting on a hunch, Emma started to walk in the direction of the park with purpose. A part of her told her to head that direction. For a moment, she thought maybe she had spotted him as he was rather tall, and she picked up her pace. She blinked as he turned a corner, and jumped at the popping noise she heard, something between a balloon popping and a cracking sound.

Emma peered down the small side street she thought he turned down and frowned. No one was there, and it didn't appear as though anyone had passed through the area in a while. It was almost as though the man had disappeared out of thin air, but perhaps she had imagined seeing him. Adults liked to tell her she had an overactive imagination because she liked to talk about magic and fairytales.

Taking a sip of her hot chocolate, Emma decided to amble back to the children's home. She didn't want to get settled in the park only to have to get back up again. As long as she finished her treats before she made it back, she wouldn't have to worry about Jocelyn taking them from her.

Emma couldn't help herself from thinking about the man, and she couldn't figure out why. She felt terrible that she didn't get to thank him, and he kept showing up in her dreams as a faceless person. All she had to go by was his voice, gentle and kind. It was almost like she had heard him speak before, for he had whole conversations with her in her dreams, but she had no idea what he looked like. It was such a queer feeling that it took over all of Emma's thoughts all week.

By the time the next week came around, Emma was a frenzied mess. She _had_ to find this man, even if it was the last thing she did. She didn't know why, but she _had_ to.

This time, Emma was smart and made sure to get her play money and rush out of the home before Jocelyn had the opportunity to get to her. She would visit Sainsbury's after school and see if the man was there. Everything in her body told her that she needed to go, that she needed to find this mysterious man. She couldn't rest until she did.

Just like the previous week, her classes went so terribly slow. It felt like they went even slower because she had a mission to go on, and it was frustrating. Mrs. Bolton kept them longer to finish her lesson and added extra homework for good measure. With an additional assignment written in her homework planner, Emma bolted from the classroom, out of the school, and out onto the streets.

The man _had_ to be working. She could just _feel_ it in her bones that he was there. Her first instinct was to go to the café again, but she couldn't bear the idea of seeing the cashier again. So, off to Sainsbury's she went.

She nearly let out a delighted shriek as she spotted what _had_ to be the man standing at one of the registers. That familiar copy of War and Peace was in his hands, and he was paging through the book as he waited for someone to go to his register. It was such a casual action as if he really didn't care whether he was supposed to actually be working. Emma immediately knew that she liked him.

Armed with her own 5 Pound note in her bag, she skipped over to the sweets aisle. She didn't want to get anything big – not yet, at least. She just needed an excuse to go into his line, and what better way to do that than with a bar of chocolate?

She browsed through the aisle to try and figure out what she could possibly get the man to thank him. She frowned, finding herself completely lost and picked up a Cadburys Golden Crisp bar and made her way to the man's register. She would just have to ask him what he liked.

Emma felt a little guilty going to his register when the other cashiers were free. He already had someone that he was ringing up, and she should have moved, but she _needed_ to talk to the man. He glanced up at her, a brow raising slightly, but he didn't say a word as he continued to ring up the old woman in front of him. One of the other cashiers tried to catch her attention, but Emma purposely ignored them. She wasn't leaving the queue, no matter what. While she waited, she rehearsed the things she wanted to say in her mind. It was always easier when she knew what to say.

Chances are Emma could have gone through every lane multiple times by the time the man finally finished with the old woman. The woman moved impossibly slow, and Emma couldn't keep herself from openly gaping. She couldn't help but marvel at the man's patience because Emma lost hers what felt like hours ago.

The man heaved a heavy sigh and blinked at the single bar of chocolate on the conveyer belt. He glanced at Emma again, and the corners of his lips twitched in amusement.

"You know there were several other lines you could have gone to," he said, not really looking up at her. "There was no reason for you to wait."

"I know," Emma replied. "But I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh?" he said in surprise, finally picking up Emma's lone purchase. "And why is that?"

She pointed to the book that sat on the small counter next to him. "Your book," she said. Butterflies suddenly began to fly around her belly when she realized she didn't seem to have any problems talking to the man. She didn't usually like talking to people she didn't know, and it was nice to not be so nervous for once. "I don't know if you remember me, or if it was even you, but I think you paid for me at the café last week. I wanted to thank you."

"Oh," he repeated, peering over at the book and then at Emma for a brief moment. His brow furrowed as he rang up the chocolate. "I suppose that was me. You're welcome."

"I have enough for that this time, you know," she said indignantly. "One of the girls I live with took my money last week, so that's why I didn't have enough. They give us money every week."

"I see," he chuckled. "That was rather rude of her to take your money."

Emma shrugged. "It's not as though she won't do it again," she said, handing over the appropriate change to pay for the chocolate. "What sort of sweets do you like?"

The man looked surprised at Emma's question as he handed her the chocolate bar and her receipt. He bent down, leaning on the conveyer belt and looking just past her thoughtfully. "I don't really like sweets all too much," he said slowly. He tilted his head from side to side as if he was trying to figure out if that was the correct answer. "I'll have them sometimes, but I much prefer raspberries."

Emma nodded, tucking that bit of information in her mind - _He likes raspberries_. She wasn't sure _why_ she needed to keep that memory in her mind, but she did. It seemed very important to her. She tucked her chocolate bar into her bag along with her change purse. "Are you usually at the register? I don't think I've ever seen a man at the register before."

He laughed, and the sad expression on his face temporarily disappeared. "I don't usually," he sighed. "Someone had to go on break, so they had me come to the register. I usually stock the shelves."

"Oh," Emma said. That made sense. Adults needed breaks, too. "Uhm…thank you."

The man straightened back up, gave her a polite smile, and then turned to his book again.

Emma felt it wasn't good enough to just thank the man, so back into the store she went. She wandered over by the raspberries and nearly picked up a container, but decided it wasn't a good idea. How long did raspberries last? Perhaps she should have asked him how long he would still be there.

Instead, Emma found herself back in the sweets aisle. She scanned the shelves high and low for the best possible candy she could find. There _had_ to be something with raspberry that she could buy for him. It was only fair to buy him a treat when he purchased hers last week.

Then, she spotted the _perfect_ thing. It was almost like the candy had a bright light surrounding it (did she imagine it?), for she found herself drawn to the raspberry-colored wrapped chocolate. She was sure that there had been a glowing light around the chocolates, but she tucked that thought away.

Fry's Raspberry Cream was exactly what she needed to buy. It was a quid for four, so she picked up four. Perhaps she would try one and give the rest to the man.

It was the best idea that Emma ever had in her young life, she decided.

Now with four bars of Fry's in hand, Emma returned back to the man's line. This time, no one was in line. He seemed surprised to see her again, his green eyes widening slightly.

"Decided one bar of chocolate wasn't enough?" he asked in amusement as he peered down at the four bars of chocolates that she placed on the conveyer belt.

"One is never enough," Emma grinned, watching as he rang the chocolate bars up. He was teasing her, and she didn't mind it. It wasn't the nasty sort of teasing that the other children her age did. They were mean, but he said it nicely as if he actually found it cute.

"Do you need a bag for these?" he asked, his smile a little more genuine than before. It made Emma happy to see that she was making him happy just by _existing_.

"No, sir," she said, pulling her change purse out and pulling out a Pound coin. She handed him the coin, and he passed her the chocolate bars. He placed the coin in the till and then handed over her receipt.

Emma hesitated for a moment and looked over at the book that still sat on the counter. "Is that a good book?" she asked, glancing up at the man and suddenly becoming terribly shy. "I really like reading."

"This?" he asked, picking up the book. "It's good. I – I don't know that someone your age should be reading it, though. How old are you?" He frowned slightly and straightened up and looked around. "Where are your parents?"

"I don't have parents," Emma said quietly. She hesitated again. They always said not to talk to strangers at primary, but this man didn't seem like a stranger at all. His eyes were kind, and she felt that she could trust him. Besides, it wasn't like she had parents to worry about her anyway. "They died when I was younger, I think. I don't really know. I'm eight now – almost nine! I've been living at the children's home down the road for as long as I can remember."

The man looked at her for a moment, as if he was studying her, and then nodded. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked," he said softly. His expression grew sad, and his smile was wistful. "I–I have a niece that would be around your age, I reckon. I used to love reading to her when she was younger."

Emma wanted to ask about the man's niece, but mostly she wanted to try and make him happy again. She separated three bars of chocolate from her pile and took a quick look at his name tag before handing them over.

"Here, these are for you, Mr. John," she said, thrusting the chocolate out at him. "I know you said you don't like sweets, but I wasn't sure if raspberries would be all right."

"Oh, no, I can't take those from you," the man said, glancing down at his name tag as though he had forgotten his own name. He placed the book back down and shook his head. "I couldn't."

"You can," Emma said forcefully. "Take them. I bought them for you. I'm just keeping one for myself."

"Honestly, I couldn't. If you don't get that much play money –"

"But I bought them for you!" Emma insisted. She tucked her single bar into her bag with the others and placed the remaining chocolate back down on the counter with the receipt. She wasn't sure if he would get in trouble, so she wanted him to have the receipt just in case. Hopefully, he would vouch for her if someone tried to stop her. When she looked at him again, she knew that he would. John was a kind man, and she knew that. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she knew.

John sighed and looked at the chocolate. "You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?" he asked, brushing back his light brown hair from his eyes. He had longish hair, Emma noted. She had to bite back her gasp when she noticed the scars on his face – she had been so nervous to talk to him that she didn't notice them. Then she noticed he had scars everywhere as if a badly-behaved animal had attacked him. It made her feel terrible to see, and though she was curious, it would be _very_ rude of her to ask about them. Emma was just glad that he was too busy looking at the chocolate to notice her shocked expression.

Wiping the shock from her face, Emma smiled at him. "No, sir," she said.

John stared at the bars of chocolate sitting in front of him, looked up at Emma, and then looked at the book he had placed back down. His lips pressed into a thin line as he hummed thoughtfully. "How about this," he said, picking up the book again. "I'll take the chocolate if you take my book. I probably shouldn't be giving it to you, but I wrote notes in the margins, so maybe you'll understand."

Emma's eyes widened as she looked at the book. It was bigger than any book she had ever read before, and she read _a lot_. "I can't take your book!" Emma insisted.

"Then I can't take your chocolate," John said with a smile.

Well, this was a problem, now wasn't it? Emma looked between the chocolate, the book, and John and crossed her arms. "Please, just take the chocolate!"

"No," he said firmly. "I refuse to take your chocolate unless you take my book."

Emma pouted and tapped her foot impatiently. She didn't really want to take John's book, he looked as though he was only half-way through, but she _really_ wanted him to take the chocolate.

"How about this," John said, separating two of the chocolates from the trio. "I'll take these two as thanks. I'll only take the third if you take the book so I can thank you in turn. It's only fair."

Perhaps that could work, Emma mused. She didn't really like the logic because she just wanted to give him the chocolate, but John appeared to be just as stubborn as she was. She thought about it for a moment, her tongue sticking out between her teeth as she glowered at the chocolate and the book in John's hand.

"All right, I guess," Emma huffed.

John smiled and stuck his hand out for her to shake. "Then we have a deal, Miss – what's your name?"

Emma stuck her hand in his, marveling at how tiny her hand was in his as they shook hands. "My name is –"

But Emma never got to answer as the cashier that John had taken over for returned.

"Thanks, John," the woman said as she stepped up. She peered at Emma and gave her a kind smile. "Well, look at that, John. I see you've made a friend. Knew it would happen at some point while you were here."

John quickly schooled his expression into something polite as he picked up the chocolates and the receipt and pocketed them. "I suppose I should head back to what I was doing," he said to the woman as he picked up the book and motioned for Emma to join him at the end of the register.

Emma didn't realize just how tall the man was until he stepped out behind the register. She thought he was tall, but he towered over her. Perhaps it was because he had been bent over most of their interaction that she didn't notice. He seemed to realize that fact very quickly as he knelt down in front of her, so he wasn't as tall anymore.

He gently pressed the book into her hands. "Take your time with this book. It's a lot to get through, but don't give up on it," he said, hesitating slightly as he peered at the book. "Perhaps someday we'll meet again when you're older, and we'll be able to discuss the book."

John studied Emma for a moment, almost as if he was searching for something, a crease forming between his brows. Emma couldn't stop herself from staring back, feeling as though she almost had to study him as well. His eyes were the same color as hers. Perhaps that was why she felt comfortable around him. There weren't many people who had the same color eyes as her.

Apparently, John didn't find what he was looking for as he sighed again. He placed a hand on her shoulder, gave it a squeeze like he did the week prior, and stood up. "I really do need to get back to work," he said almost to himself. "Until we meet again…"

Emma stood rooted to the spot as she watched him walk away. She wanted to follow him but decided that she should probably head back to the children's home. Emma carefully tucked John's gift into her bag and left the store, but not without taking another look to see if she could spot John one more time.

She wasted absolutely no time when she made it back to the children's home. Emma quickly changed out of her school uniform and pulled the book and the chocolates out of her bag. She was meant to be doing her homework, but that could wait.

Emma tossed the book and the Raspberry Cream up onto her bunk and climbed up quickly. Opening the wrapper with her teeth, Emma opened the book. She ran her fingers over the loopy scrawl on the inside cover – "Property of R. " She frowned slightly. Was his name not really John? Maybe John was his middle name, and he preferred to go by that instead.

Pushing the thought aside, Emma began to read and was quickly fascinated by the book. It really _was_ a good book, and John's notes were helpful.

A week later and several chapters into the book, Emma made her way back to Sainsbury's. She had more play money again, and she wanted to talk to John about the book. Emma thought it might become her favorite book if she could ever get through it. There really were a lot of pages.

She practically skipped through the store, searching for John. He told her the previous week that he stocked shelves, but she couldn't seem to find him. She made a few loops around the store until another worker came up to her.

"Hello, miss," said the older woman. "Did you need help with something?"

Emma immediately clammed up, but she tried to be brave. She peered past the woman, half expecting to see John again, but he wasn't there. "I was looking for someone," Emma said, looking up at the woman. "His name's John – rather tall man –"

"Oh," the woman said, "with brown hair and green eyes?" Emma nodded fervently, a smile on her face. Her smile faded away quickly at the sympathetic expression on the woman's face. "He actually quit a few days ago, love. Did you need help with anything else?"

"Oh," Emma parroted, deflated. Why did John quit? It wasn't because of her, was it? She decided right then and there that it wasn't because of her. He seemed to like talking to her. "No, I'll be all right, thank you," Emma said, giving the woman a polite smile. "I'll just be picking up some sweets for myself and then be on my way."

The woman smiled back and went on her way, doing whatever she was meant to be doing, and Emma made her way to the sweets aisle. Like the previous week, she picked up a Cadbury Golden Crisp and four Fry's Raspberry Cream. She paid, tucked the chocolates and receipt into her bag, and left the store.

Emma's walk back to the children's home was decided long as she decided to take the longest way possible back. She decided to walk by the park, scuffing her feet along the sidewalks. It wouldn't hurt to take a few minutes to relax before heading back. She had really been looking forward to seeing John again. She was incredibly disappointed in only the way an eight-year-old could be.

She took a seat at one of the park benches, pulled out John's copy of _War and Peace_ and one of the Raspberry Creams, and began to read. She flipped to chapter twelve with a sigh, wishing she could talk to John about the book.

If Emma had only taken the time to look up, she would have noticed a mirror image. She would have seen John sitting just across the way. She would have noticed that he was reading his new copy of _War and Peace_ and eating a Raspberry Cream, equally oblivious. He would just be flipping to chapter twelve with a sigh, having started back at the beginning that morning.

If either of them had bothered to look up, they would have also noticed the third presence watching them both, almost in amusement. He had been expecting the smallest one, he had been watching her for years, but his Pup was a pleasant surprise. Usually, he would make sure the girl made it back to where she lived all right, but he would let the situation play out without his interference. He had seen the girl earlier that week and talked to her like he did every week. She would have been confused to see him twice in one week. The girl would be fine with his Pup there – he didn't mind leaving them both together, as clueless as they were. It wasn't the first time they had been together like this, and he would make sure it wasn't the last.

Fenrir Greyback would never let it be said that he didn't take care of his pack, even if they were unaware of it.


	10. Safe Keeping - Fenrir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Chapter Six: [Double Trouble](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075381/chapters/53931631) of [Dark Tranquility](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075381/chapters/52682827)

The first of September always made Fenrir excited. The start of school meant that he had his pick of whatever child he could get his hands on, but he had to resist. He had a different mission.

Leaning in a shady alley near The Leaky Cauldron, Fenrir waited. He was used to waiting, and he enjoyed lurking in the shadows for his prey. It was unfortunate that he would have to satiate his needs another time. This trip out to London was for another reason, and he kept his eyes trained on the pub's door.

It took some time, but the door opened, and his quarry finally stepped out onto the street. The dark-haired girl was out of the pub first, tugging along a shorter, unfamiliar girl. It took Fenrir a moment, feeling as though his eyes were deceiving him – she didn't look right.

He took a deep breath, trying to process all of the smells surrounding him. It took him a moment to work past the acrid scent of gasoline and rubbish. He could pick up heavy perfumes that made his nose twitch, and the thick musk of colognes, but he was looking for one specific scent in the air. _Cinnamon_.

Fenrir's lips twisted into a smile. That was an unexpected surprise. The littlest Lupin looked like her father, and his growl rolled up his from his chest in a pleased purr. It was jarring for him to see, but it left him delighted. Years of seeing the young one look like her unintended biological donor had left him annoyed. This was an enjoyable situation for him to come across.

His very first Pup had a pup of his own, but this one Fenrir wasn't letting get away. Not easily. Especially not after they had become friends over the years. He had been disappointed when he visited her, bothered that she didn't remember him other than as a vague shadow of memory. Some day he would fix that.

The youngest Lupin always reminded him of a rabbit, and as he trailed behind the girls towards King's Cross, it was much more pronounced. She was quick, acting on instincts. Though several inches shorter than her friend, she kept up easily as they ran through the crowded sidewalks. If she found an issue, she reacted quickly, darting under arms and dodging handbags. There was a brief moment where she hesitated as they ran, almost as if she was aware of his presence, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

He had been a witness on several occasions to how quick her personality could change if she felt threatened. It didn't happen often, but when it did, she was fierce. He had been on the wrong side of her temper several times, and rather than infuriating him, it amused him. For such a small little thing, she could fight.

Those particular moments only happened when he convinced her not to take the potions at the hovel. He always enjoyed the days when she wouldn't take the brew they forced down all of the children's throats. It often took convincing on his part, but she was all the better for it. Not only did she not stink of potions, but she wasn't subdued. He barely even had to coax any form of aggression out of her – it was already there.

He had never liked the idea of her staying in the hovel for so long, but it made things a little easier. Fenrir was able to help to keep her wild, pulling her strength out from behind her deceptively quiet demeanor. She had everyone else fooled, but Fenrir knew the truth. At least now she was free again – just like she should be. Just like a rabbit.

Fenrir couldn't stop his chuckle as he followed the girls, never quite letting them out of his sight. Rabbit – that's what he would call her. She was a young pup still, but she would always be his Rabbit. It suited her.

It always amused him to see how similar she was to his Pup, but now she _looked_ like him as well. She was a smaller, much prettier version of his Pup, and he couldn't _wait_ to have her as his own. He never liked Jude, but he had given him a gift that he was more than happy to take even if it meant waiting. Rabbit would be an excellent replacement for his Pup. When the time came, she would fit easily into the folds of his pack. While Fenrir never understood the exact specifics, a deal was a deal, and he was counting down the days.

A flash of gold around Rabbit's wrist caught his eye. The gold bracelet around her wrist shone brightly in the sunlight as if calling to him. He had noticed it when he paid her a visit in April but thought nothing of it. Now it seemed like a good idea to take it from her. She wouldn't know that he had it in his possession, but eventually, she would.

He slowly pulled his wand out, careful to keep it concealed. The closer they got to King's Cross, the easier it would be to take, but he couldn't act too quickly. When he was sure no one would notice, he struck. It took one quick swish of his wand, and the bracelet fell off Rabbit's wrist. With another quick swish and a muttered _Accio,_ he had his prize in hand. He would be holding onto it as a token for his time. Perhaps she could get it back later on.

Fenrir slowly backed off, tucking the bracelet and his wand in his pocket. He would have to pay Rabbit another visit. She would remember him again in time. She always did.


	11. Part of the Plan - Fenrir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set before A Window to the Past 
> 
> **potential spoilers if you haven't read Daughter of the Moon**

"Why are you always so weird?"

Fenrir patiently allowed his pup to climb onto him, sitting still in the grass as she insisted he was a tree. It was mildly annoying to be jostled around by his pup's constant movement, but he played with the pups in his pack. At least he only had to deal with one pup, and she was small for her age.

He had been having the same conversation with her every two weeks since she started talking. Whatever they were giving her at the hovel made her forget everything – almost as if her mind was forced to reset. He always knew when the cycle would start again, even before he could smell her. The girl's eyes would begin to become glassy and glazed over, her brain in a fog that she wasn't entirely aware of. It had caused issues when she was much younger, but there wasn't much Fenrir could do to stop it without throwing the entire plan off.

The girl had been quiet when he started really visiting her. Fenrir gave her time to settle into life at the hovel, but when she turned four, he couldn't wait any longer. For months, Fenrir was sure that she had become mute, no longer willing to speak to anyone. Emma would watch him curiously, never afraid of him, but unsure. She wouldn't even laugh or make any noise that indicated she understood him. Whatever was happening at the hovel, Fenrir didn't like it – a girl her age shouldn't have been so quiet. The plan had clearly changed somewhere along the line, but he couldn't do a thing until he knew what was wrong with her.

Fenrir had been genuinely taken aback when Emma had uttered her first very short and very quiet sentence. Her voice was low and timid, hoarse from disuse. He was fully expecting a Yorkshire accent to come from her, but instead, he heard a faint Welsh lilt. Fenrir had to admit that it was cute, and he was surprised at how articulate she was. He wondered if the only reason she kept her accent was because of him, listening to the familiar accent of Southern Wales where she would have grown up. After encouraging her to keep talking, he found out she spoke to herself at night, trying to recite the stories she heard from memory.

From that moment on, Fenrir almost regretted encouraging her to talk – she never stopped.

"I'm not weird," Fenrir said roughly, taking care to keep the growl out of his voice. He had to remember Emma was only ten. It didn't matter how familiar she was with him, Emma always got nervous when he growled. Sometimes she deserved the growl of warning, but he wouldn't deny her the simplicity of play. All pups needed to play.

"Yes, you are," Emma sing-songed, climbing up his back, her knees planted on his shoulders. She bent herself over the top of his to look at him upside down. "You're very weird."

Fenrir reached up over his head, grabbing Emma's sides so he could flip her over his head, wincing at her squeal of delight. It was one of her favorite things, and he knew exactly how the process would go. He would flip her over his head, very carefully let her drop to the ground on her back, and she would start the cycle anew. Fenrir never understood why she found it amusing.

"Do it again!" Emma shouted as if on cue, already scrambling to her feet.

"I've stayed too long," Fenrir said, grabbing onto Emma's arms to keep her still. If he let her continue, she would only complain more than she usually did. "And you've been out too long. They'll start looking for you if you stay out any longer."

Emma pouted, trying to give him her best puppy dog eyes. "It's not like they care," Emma said, lip quivering. Fenrir would allow the crocodile tears – she could be a good little actress, and he needed to encourage it. He had big plans for her in the future. "They never do," she added with a hint of sadness.

Fenrir frowned. Perhaps she wasn't acting this time. "They're still mean to you?"

"The girls always are," Emma muttered. "And Mr. Ward got mad at me because of what happened at school."

"Did your teacher's hair turn colors again?"

Emma gave a shy nod. "I just thought her hair should turn purple because she made me mad. I blinked, and then it was purple, and Mr. Ward blamed me for it."

Fenrir studied his pup closely. He knew that Emma had listened to him – taking care to avoid the drinks that were in the hovel. It meant more work on his part to keep her well-fed, but at least she didn't stink of potions and looked like herself. Fenrir knew that it wouldn't last much longer if Ward was starting to get aggravated.

His pup's magic was uncontrolled and ran wild like she should. The longer she stayed in the hovel, the more her magic was unpredictable. Fenrir wasn't sure which was better – repressing her magic or letting it come through naturally. It was necessary in her earlier days, but it wouldn't be long until she received her Hogwarts letter. Though he didn't allow for much magic in his packs, it would help have a well-trained witch. She had talent, but only when she was able to act on it.

" _Was_ it my fault?" she asked, eyes wide and innocent when he didn't respond.

But Fenrir knew Emma wasn't innocent at all, and he chuckled. She was a sneaky and clever little thing when she wanted to be. Her small size made her unassuming, and she used that to her advantage. Emma liked to keep herself hidden in the background, taking in whatever information she could for her benefit. At least that was one thing the potions didn't take away from her.

"Did you want her hair to turn purple?" he asked, smirking at the sly little grin that started to cross Emma's face. She was an absolute terror, and if the plan didn't go entirely according to plan, he was just taking her as his own. Emma was perfect, and he could only imagine the things he could teach her to do.

"Yes," Emma admitted after a moment, schooling her expression to look shame-filled as she looked down at her feet.

"Then it wasn't your fault. You wanted her hair purple, and you made her hair purple."

"It wasn't my fault?" she asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes. Fenrir was always impressed at how well she had the innocent look down.

"It wasn't your fault," Fenrir said, releasing his hold on Emma to stand up. "In fact, I'm proud of you. You should do it again."

"But Mr. Ward –"

" _I_ will talk to Ward," he said, grabbing Emma's hand, fully intending to bring her back to the hovel himself. It was still light out, but the sky would be getting dark soon, and he didn't need her walking alone. "In fact, I'll talk to him today."

Fenrir smelled Emma's sudden panic well before she opened her mouth. "But you said if Mr. Ward sees you –"

"I think Ward could stand to use a visit from me," Fenrir said, tugging Emma along the sidewalk. He peered down at Emma, who looked at him dubiously. "Don't worry – it's all part of the plan."


	12. His Rabbit - Fenrir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **tw:** Fenrir is his own warning/suggestive themes
> 
> Do not read unless you're caught up with The Marauder's Child

Fenrir was surprised when he woke up to find Emma curled up into his side. One of her legs was draped over his, one of her arms thrown over his stomach, and her head was rested on his chest. He mused over his arm being wrapped protectively around her shoulders. Funny how that had happened, but Fenrir was more fascinated by how easily she gravitated to him in her sleep.

Emma was more wolf than she thought sometimes. She was like one of the pups that would come to find him to sleep against. He didn't allow the pups to sleep next to him often, but sometimes he understood the need. His Rabbit was no different. He had realized it in her unasked question that sat heavily in the air between them.

She wanted the comfort of another wolf, had confessed that she often abandoned her own bed to stay near her father. Others wouldn't understand it, they would find it odd, but he understood. It was normal for them; packs kept close together, and she wasn't with the one that she was familiar with. Fenrir might be her Alpha because of her father, drafted into the pack well before she was part wolf, but her mind was struggling to grasp that concept.

Fenrir wasn't deaf to what others said about him, wasn't blind to the confused looks she kept giving him. He could practically hear her thoughts, her worry over the betrayal of what she thought was right, wanting to ignore the call of their kind. Fenrir could see that she wanted to embrace it, but her mind was plagued with her father's thoughts. She especially wanted to ignore the call of their kind because it was _him. His_ reputation was one of murder and violence and evil. That went against everything he knew his Rabbit wanted, but she wasn't grasping the concept of the pack. Light and Dark didn't matter with the pack. If she just learned to accept what he was offering her, what he could provide her, it would be much easier. He would just have to continue to show her with no conditions.

Soleil (Gods, he hated that name – he didn't think the name fit such a beautiful wolf) would be a problem for his Rabbit. Emma wanted to maintain her power; Soleil wanted her to submit. Emma clung hard to her humanity, while Soleil wished to defer to Fenrir's authority. Fenrir wanted both from her. He wanted her to challenge him, but he wanted to own every part of her more.

Fenrir let out a soft growl at the sudden feeling that washed over him, and he tamped them down lest he wake her. He wanted nothing more than to take her right then and there, wanting to force her into submission, but his Rabbit spooked easily. He learned from the first time and didn't feel the need to cause her undue stress when she had enough of it. She would be less than pleased to be woken up in the way he wanted. That was a curious situation in itself; everything about her was meant to take to him quickly, but she fought him at every turn. She didn't want him, but she would learn who she belonged to; he would be sure of it. His Rabbit was his; even the universe decided it would be so. Someday she would be willing, and while Fenrir wasn't a patient creature, he would have to be with her.

With another growl, Fenrir adjusted himself as carefully as he could. He wanted to take advantage of the closeness his Rabbit would never allow for any other time. She felt nice curled up against him. She could sleep for a little while longer before he would wake her in a more appropriate way.

He found his Rabbit more fascinating like this; asleep, peaceful, and unguarded. She kept very high walls up at all times, always had. Everything was approached with wariness, especially with him around, eyes sharp and movements cautious. She watched him as much as he watched her with an air of curiosity, fear, and a resignation that he wasn't leaving. But when she was asleep, the walls fell.

Everything about his Rabbit was soft; sweet voice, smooth skin, soft curves, gentle smiles. He could look at her all day if he could, and he damn near tried.

She was beautiful.

His Rabbit had always been beautiful in her own way, in the _before_ , but he much preferred the _after_. That was how she referred to things in her quiet, timid conversations with him and Fenrir agreed. There was absolutely a before and an after, and the after was where everything had changed.

Fenrir had been outraged by what led to his pup finally allowing for his Rabbit's change, but he could look past it. The first time he saw her look like a near-perfect recreation of his pup, he was excited. Something about her was suddenly more confident, and he loved the radiance that shone beneath the surface. All that she needed was his contribution, the beautiful lines across her face, and the bites that would always make her belong to him.

While he would have preferred to have done things differently, enjoyed the moment more, he was delighted to make that dream happen. He wasn't planning on marking her when he did, but he had no choice. At least now no one would dare question who she belonged to.

Like this – she was perfection.

He couldn't stop himself from brushing his knuckles against her cheek, smiling at the way her brow furrowed in her sleep. Even in her sleep, she wasn't sure what to think of him touching her, pulling the same reaction she gave while awake. At least while sleeping, she didn't flinch back like she usually did. If she were anyone else, he would relish in her fear, but she was to be his mate. He wanted to keep a healthy amount of fear in her, but she had too much.

Fenrir was silently grateful for his foresight to find out what the moon would tell him of her future.

He chuckled softly at the reminder that his little Rabbit was a skeptic of divination, but that very branch of magic had been what kept him from killing her. She would be alarmed when she learned of that knowledge, but it wasn't time to share that with her. Fenrir would finally explain what she meant to him the moment he had her won over. While he already had an idea of where her thoughts were headed, he would allow her the time he promised. There were only a few more weeks until her birthday, and then her decision could be binding. He wouldn't dare ask her again a moment sooner – it would do him no good to lose her. Not now when he was so close to finally having her entirely as his.

For years, Fenrir doubted that his Rabbit would be worth anything. She was too small, too quiet, not at all what he was looking for. He had his concerns over the damage done to her body from the Cruciatus, something he worked hard to rectify. He knew she was intelligent, she had shown her brilliance multiple times, but he wasn't sure. There was something _off_ that he couldn't figure out.

When she turned eleven, Fenrir was left with a few choices. He could let her live out life as a Muggle or turn her and bring her into the pack only because he spent so much time with her. There was the possibility he could just drop her off at his pup's home and hope he could figure things out. Or Fenrir could kill her.

None of the possibilities were fascinating to him. Letting his Rabbit live as a Muggle would have been a less than fulfilling life for her, but she would live. They kept her ignorant of everything on purpose. The less she knew growing up, the better. With no knowledge of magic, she could have gone on living very unaware her constant companion was a werewolf. She would grow up and forget that he existed. It was a strong possibility. Fenrir didn't hate her. In fact, he had grown quite fond of the once little redheaded girl, but Jude wouldn't have let her live for long.

If he took her into the pack, there was a strong possibility she would have died. There was a strong possibility that she wouldn't survive the turn; most females didn't. Even if she did survive, her small size would pose a problem. If he wasn't interested in her, one of the other males would have their pick of her. There was no way she would survive without him, but he wasn't sure if he had a reason to care.

Dropping her off at his pup's would have been disastrous considering he was an alcoholic at the time, but it would have been a possibility. Hell, in his state, there was a possibility his pup would have killed her, realized what he had done, and killed himself after. Fenrir would have genuinely lamented the loss of them both.

All roads led to an uncertain future and an all but guaranteed death for his Rabbit. At least if he were to kill her himself, he would have been kind about it. He would have felt the smallest sliver of guilt like he always did, but at least she would know she was loved. She wouldn't have even known what he had done – he would have made it quick for her. It was a small mercy compared to what other possibilities she would have been left with.

Still, he was curious. The moon had never failed him once. With a small vial of several very carefully collected droplets of her blood, Fenrir decided to delve into darker rituals under the light of the nearly full moon to see what lay ahead. He had killed enough people that he was sure that he didn't have a soul any longer; blood magic meant nothing to him. Fenrir never expected what was to come.

Fenrir was amazed. He was stunned, startled even, and then suddenly filled with an incredible amount of adoration for the tiny girl he doubted. _She was made just for him_.

In the hazy smoke billowing from the potion he created, he saw the start of the wolf. It was faint, but he saw it, highlighted in the light of the moon. His name was practically spelled out, billowing into the crisp, autumn air. There was strength, there was brilliance, there was everything he could ever want. Somehow, she was going to change things for him. He saw power, and Fenrir wanted all the power he could ever get. Werewolves were superior over wizards, and the tiny little thing he judged would prove that to the world.

Not quite believing it, Fenrir consulted every possible branch of divination that he could just to confirm it. Tarot cards, tasseography, botanomancy, multiple types of scrying; crystal balls, fire, and water – they all said the same thing. Fenrir learned from Voldemort's mistake with the prophecy with the Potter's; he wasn't about to make that mistake. His Rabbit was his and his alone.

The nearly long since abandoned plan that had been concocted for his Rabbit had changed that night. There was no way he would let her go, but he wasn't telling anyone what he was doing. With his Rabbit, he had all the power he could ever want. _She was power_. Everything said that he would have to let her go and go to Hogwarts until she was ready to take her place, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He would do anything for power; he would do anything for his Rabbit if it made her stronger and kept her happy. He would do anything for his incredibly brilliant and powerful mate.

She would be his power, and he would be hers. Fenrir never cared to have a mate again after losing Aine, but he would be damned if he didn't have Rabbit as his. They were going to be unstoppable, he knew it, and Fenrir's twisted into a delighted smile.

He literally held power in his arms, sleeping and unaware of what she was destined to be.

It would be a process, but he was sure that he would be able to convince his sweet little Rabbit to come to his side. She wanted the same thing as he did, even if she denied it. He wanted better conditions for his wolves, and she did as well. He wanted wolves to be feared, but she wanted them to be accepted – one day, she would see why he was right. In the meantime, he could pretend to be a wizard, one with feelings and care and consideration. It was what she expected, and she needed protection for the moment, but one day she would know who he truly was.

She would come to love him for who he was, love him for his strength and ability to get others to bend to his will. One day she would understand what it would mean to be truly powerful. They would be magnificent together. They would even overthrow the Dark Lord's reign when he returned with their pups and army of wolves. Everyone would come to fear them in time, and he would have his pup back. Rabbit would never let his pup be swept aside, and Fenrir delighted at the idea of having his first pup returned to the pack where he belonged. Fenrir was so close to everything he ever wanted that he could taste it. He nearly shivered in anticipation at the thought.

Fenrir gently tipped her head up so he could press a kiss to the spot between her eyebrows. He had to be careful with her – if he forgot who he was dealing with, she might become his undoing. Which reminded him of something he needed to do. Rabbit wouldn't be too pleased with him if he didn't change his plans.

He slipped himself out from underneath her carefully, only leaving the bed altogether once he pressed another kiss to her head. He made his way over to the table, pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment from the stack she had put out earlier that week. An amused smile crossed his lips as he pulled over the quill he had purchased her for Christmas – he was satisfied to see she used his gift.

A sigh escaped his lips as he wrote to Raoul to inform him that the upcoming full moon's hunt would have to be adjusted. He was disappointed, but Rabbit would be much happier with him. He had so been looking forward to sinking his teeth into the little redhead…

Fenrir stood to call for an owl from outside, but another owl flew in with a letter for him. He pulled the letter from the owl's beak, frowning when he saw it was from Raoul. There was something about the urgent scrawl on the front of the envelope that already aggravated Fenrir, and he ripped it open. His mood soured considerably when he read that his wolves were growing aggravated with him and his constant disappearances and were threatening to mutiny. Fenrir couldn't have that, and he was torn about leaving, but he would have to go. He crumpled the letter in his hand and tucked it into his pocket just as Rabbit stirred.

He could tell Raoul the change in person, but first, he had his Rabbit to take care of.


	13. Jocelyn and Chloe (Removed Scene)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a deleted scene from Dark Tranquility discussing Jocelyn and Chloe's backstory. It was originally written in chapter 8 or 9, but removed due to disrupting the flow of the chapter. At Lucasjan's request (over on FF.net), I'm providing that missing scene for anyone who may have missed it the first time. Hopefully this provides more context into Jocelyn Carmichael and Chloe Duffy.

Jocelyn could remember the day that she first met Emma. It stuck out in her mind as if it had happened just days prior.

Jocelyn and Chloe were placed in St. Nicholas Children's Home when their father remarried. Their mother was an older witch, a very devoted woman who spent her time devoted to working in St. Mungo's while their father was a Muggle. He never seemed to enjoy magic as much as his two daughters did.

The two Able girls loved their mother more than anything, but they loved magic even more. They relished in the stories their mother would tell them about a magical school called Hogwarts and read stories such as The Wizard and the Hopping Pot and The Warlock's Hairy Heart. The two sisters enjoyed the stories very much, though Jocelyn found herself captivated by The Tale of the Three Brothers. She vowed that she would become the most invincible witch in all of the world.

When their mother passed, the two girls were destroyed. At five and six, they didn't understand death, but they could understand the fact that their mother never came home. Their father wasn't abusive, but he didn't care for the two as well as he should. It was only months later that their father remarried to another Muggle woman, and they were placed in St. Nicholas Children's Home. He didn't know how to take care of magical children and felt it was best they be placed elsewhere.

It didn't take long for the two to feel like something very important was missing from their lives; they just didn't know what.

Being the newest members of the home, Jocelyn and Chloe were picked on by the older children. They made fun of how the two were of different ages but were born within a year of each other. They made fun of how they looked – Jocelyn with dark brown hair and a darker complexion and Chloe's hair more auburn with pale skin. A girl, slightly older than themselves, stepped in to calm the situation down, time and time again, but Jocelyn grew to resent the girl. Instead of being appreciative of the girl's efforts, Jocelyn went on the offensive.

The moment Jocelyn decided to be mean, she never stopped. She would take care of herself and Chloe as best as she could. Every time the girl would try to help, Jocelyn made sure to let her know that her help was not needed.

Years later, when Jocelyn was ten and Chloe was nine, they were moved from their open-air room with the younger children to a shared bedroom with two other girls, Tracey and the overly helpful girl, Emma.

It wasn't until the two sisters were forced to spend more of their waking time with Emma that Jocelyn realized she really couldn't stand the girl. While Jocelyn quickly bonded with Tracey, Emma never made it into their friend group. Jocelyn supposed it started off innocently enough, a shove here and there, or a snide comment that would make Emma give her a confused look. Eventually, Emma stopped trying to be nice, but Jocelyn never stopped being mean.

Emma always seemed to be happy, no matter what. She carried herself with an attitude of not caring much for what was going around her but continuously made it a point to try and help people whenever she felt the need. It aggravated Jocelyn to no end – there was no way that anyone could be happy all the time.

Jocelyn hated the way that Emma seemed to dominate matching events, prospective parents gravitating the girl. She hated the way that the couples would comment on how open and joyful she was. Of course, Emma would never wind up going home with a family, but the idea that she could leave haunted Jocelyn after each event. Jocelyn hated the way Emma would come home from school with passing grades and glowing end-of-term reports. Jocelyn was just as smart as Emma, but her reports were never as favorable.

When Emma seemingly disappeared overnight, Jocelyn was even more frustrated. The only reason the girl would have vanished so quickly was she was finally placed in a family. Jocelyn found herself stewing over the situation, angry that she had never seemed to be able to crack Emma the way that she had wanted. She wanted Emma to hurt, but she never had the opportunity.

A year later, Jocelyn and Chloe finally remember what it was they were missing – magic. One morning the sisters were given letters brought by an owl, and it was as if their world made sense again. However, the girls were devastated to learn that they would be placed in two separate families. Jocelyn felt that she failed as a sister, unable to keep their small unit together, which added to her resentment. She felt as though she would never be happy.

As much as Jocelyn loved her new family, she found herself missing Chloe more and more each passing day. She was grateful that they were both placed with magical families and could reacquaint themselves with the lives they knew, but it was never the same. Instead of having a younger sister, Jocelyn had an older brother that was in Ravenclaw. Even though both families made sure that the sisters got to see each other and made sure they kept in touch, it was never the same.

The first day of Hogwarts was exhilarating for Jocelyn. She was excited to be going to the school that her mother had always spoken about. More importantly, she was excited to be reunited with Chloe. The two sisters met up on the train, talking excitedly about the things they had been up to during the rest of their summer. They spoke about the houses they wanted to be sorted in, chatting idly about how perfect their first year together would be. They rode the same boat over to the castle, marveling over the location of many stories for the first time ever. For the first time, Jocelyn felt as though she was home, and she was happy to be walking through the castle. But Jocelyn's happiness didn't end there.

To Jocelyn's delight, she spotted the very person she had been secretly wanting to see. After a year of daydreams and over-thought scenarios, Jocelyn was finally in the same place as Emma again. With glee, her thoughts began to wander, her eyes remaining fixated on Emma as she stood in the Great Hall, and even after she was sorted.

Jocelyn would do everything in her power to make sure that Emma was miserable, but this time she would succeed. It was going to be a great first year.


	14. Flitwick's Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set during the first week of classes in Daughter of the Moon

Emma was interrupted several times during Charms class to a very annoying little, "Ahem" to her right.

"Yes?" Emma asked, shooting Hermione an aggravated glance.

"You're holding your wand incorrectly," Hermione said, reaching directly over Ron to grab onto Emma's hand. "You're meant to hold it like this," she explained as she tried to adjust Emma's grip.

Emma winced at Hermione's not-so-gentle manipulation of her hand and shared a look of annoyance with Ron.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione," Ron said, watching in confusion as Hermione tried to fix Emma's grip. "You might as well rip her bloody hand off."

"It feels like she is," Emma grumbled, tugging her hand out of Hermione's and dropping her wand on the table. "My grip is _fine_ , Hermione."

Hermione was about to make another comment when Professor Flitwick piped up from the front of the room, "Pay attention to your own feathers!" which silenced Hermione almost immediately. Emma gave Flitwick an appreciative look as she massaged her hand and reattempted to hold her wand.

Professor Flitwick slowly got down from his stack of books to check on everyone's progress. He would stop at a student's desk to ask how they were doing. His progress was slow as he had to spend extra time with Neville, who was nervous about the school year's start.

Hermione continued to cast glances at Emma from across the aisle just past Ron. Susan, who sat to Emma's left, seemed to be doing the same but looking over at Hermione with curiosity.

"I think she's going to try and help you again," Susan muttered under her breath to Emma. Emma couldn't stop herself from looking over at Hermione with a sigh.

"I think you're right," Emma said back.

Hermione looked as though she was struggling with herself, her wand held up with her feather already hovering in the air. Ron seemed to be less focused on what he was doing and more focused on Hermione. Emma tried pointedly to ignore Hermione and focus on her feather that refused to float. She had been able to do it so easily while at home with Remus helping her but being back in the classroom presented too many distractions – her biggest being one Hermione Granger.

"Emma, I really feel like you just need to –"

"Miss Granger, _please_ pay attention to your own feather!" Flitwick said while walking in their direction. Professor Flitwick momentarily paused next to Hermione and Ron, looked at Ron's feather with a sigh, and then turned to Emma and Susan.

"And how are you two doing?" he asked, a smile on his face.

"We're doing all right, Professor," Susan said politely. Emma only gave a small nod, keeping her gaze focused on her feather that had barely moved up in the air.

Emma couldn't understand what the issue was. She had done so well at home in the safety of the cottage and had been doing all right until Hermione started watching her. With Flitwick so close, even with the promise of helping her, Emma could feel the frustrated tears coming to her eyes. She should have spent more time working with Remus to figure out how to do things correctly, but it felt like there was no time at all.

"Just keep doing your best," Professor Flitwick said. "It takes time to get back into the swing of things after such a long break. Miss Lupin, why don't you see me after class? There's something interesting I would like to show you."

"Professor, I really think that I should help Emma. She's doing it wrong, and I –"

"Miss Granger, that will do," Professor Flitwick said, turning back around to acknowledge Hermione, who looked back at him in surprise. His sudden sharp tone seemed to have surprised Hermione as her eyes grew wide as saucers as she stared back at the Professor.

"Did Miss Lupin ask for your assistance?" Flitwick continued.

"Well, no, but –"

"Then that will do."

Hermione looked as though she was about to protest once more, but Flitwick gave Hermione one final annoyed look. When he turned back to face Emma and Susan, his smile seemed more genuine.

"Remember, see me after class, Miss Lupin," Flitwick said before moving along to Justin and Wayne's desk. Hermione stared at Flitwick, her jaw dropped, and smacked Ron's arm when he started to cough to cover his laugh. She sat back in her chair with a huff of annoyance.

Emma dreaded the end of class and felt her face heat up at the glances in her direction. Everyone seemed to have such an easy time getting their feathers in the air once more, except for Neville. She had taken great pride in keeping up with Hermione the past two years in most classes, but this year didn't seem to be the case. Hopefully, the entire year wouldn't be like this.

Rather than pack up with the rest of the class, Emma waited for the class to clear out. Professor Flitwick decided to let the class out a little early, and Emma was relieved. She cast Hermione a sidelong glance as she left with Harry and Ron. Emma looked over her shoulder to find Ernie and Hannah lingering a little longer than everyone else, packing up far more slowly than the others. Emma couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes as she started to place her books back into her bag. She wasn't surprised that Ernie and Hannah would try and find out exactly what Flitwick wanted with her.

Wanting to buy some more time, Emma knocked one of her books off the desk, creating a loud echoing _BOOM_ as it connected with the floor. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning at Hannah's shout of surprise.

"Best run along to dinner, Mr. Macmillan and Miss Abbott," Professor Flitwick said, sounding not at all surprised by the sudden loud noise Emma caused. "I'll be a moment with Miss Lupin."

"Oh," Hannah said, "we thought we would wait for Emma!"

"Yeah," Ernie said hurriedly. "Then she doesn't have to wait for Cedric. You know, because of –"

"That will do, Mr. Macmillan," Flitwick said, his tone firm. "Miss Lupin may leave when Mr. Diggory arrives and not a moment sooner. Now, please be on your way."

Emma looked back over her shoulder as she picked her book off the floor. Hannah and Ernie looked at each other for a long moment, having a silent conversation, and turned to Flitwick with muttered, "Have a good night, Professor."

"Are you all done putting your things away, Miss Lupin?"

"Yes, Professor Flitwick," Emma said, straightening up in her seat.

"Wonderful, why don't we take a quick walk? I'd like to show you something," Professor Flitwick said. "You may leave your things here."

A slight frown crossed Emma's face as she stood up from her desk. What was Flitwick planning to show her? Still, she followed the tiny professor out of the room and down the hallway. Recognition slowly caught up with her the further along they went, and she thought of what rooms were connected to the Charm's corridor.

"Professor, where exactly are we going?" Emma questioned.

"The trophy room," Professor Flitwick said cheerily. "I want to show you a few things."

"This isn't just you trying to show off, is it, Professor?" Emma teased.

"You are just as cheeky as Remus," Flitwick chuckled. "It's refreshing to see."

"Seems a lot of people are saying that to me this year," Emma sighed, following Flitwick into the trophy room. She couldn't understand why Professor Flitwick would want to show her the trophy room. It was a place that she visited very infrequently, there were only so many times she could look at the same photos, after all, but here they were.

Professor Flitwick stood in front of a photo along one of the walls and looked between Emma and the portrait in front of them. Emma wasn't entirely sure what she was meant to be doing, and her eyes flicked from Flitwick to the portrait. A hum of confusion escaped her lips, and she gave Flitwick a sheepish look, her shoulders raising in an unsure shrug.

"What do you see, Miss Lupin?" Professor Flitwick asked, motioning to the photo in front of them.

Emma turned to look at the photo once more. In it was a younger Professor Flitwick and a Ravenclaw student holding their wand at the ready.

"I see someone looking as though they're ready to start a proper duel," Emma said slowly, still unsure of what Flitwick wanted her to look at.

"Look at how he's holding his wand," he said gently, prompting Emma to return her attention to the photo.

Still frowning, Emma tried looking closer at the portrait. The student in the photo would hold their wand at the ready and then would shift into a more neutral pose. It took Emma a few moments to notice that the student didn't hold their wand in a "typical" fashion, their grip somewhere higher up on their wand. Flitwick, seemingly noticing Emma's moment of recognition, gently pulled her along to the next photo.

"And what about this one?" he prompted, motioning to the photo of the younger Gryffindor standing beside him.

This student kept a neutral pose in their photo but held their wand almost at the very end. It was so dangerously close to the edge that it made Emma wonder how they maintained a hold on their wand. Flitwick brought her to several more photos making sure that she paid attention to how each student was holding their wands.

"None of them hold their wands the same," Emma said quietly to Professor Flitwick.

"Exactly," Flitwick said excitedly. "None of them hold their wands in a typical fashion. They hold their wands in a way that feels comfortable to them. All you have to do is find what works for you and not listen to what others have to say. What works for one person doesn't work for everyone."

"So, even though I feel like I need to hold my wand funny, it doesn't matter?" Emma questioned.

"Correct," Flitwick replied. "I think with a little bit of time, we can figure something out for you that's comfortable. You're not going to be left behind this year, Miss Lupin. We're all going to make sure of that."

"It's really okay that I might not be able to hold my wand normally?"

"Of course, it's okay, Miss Lupin!" Flitwick said cheerily. "Whatever feels comfortable for you is what's normal. That's all that matters."

Emma looked between Flitwick and the photo in front of her, nervously flexing the fingers in her right hand. She wasn't sure that she would be able to handle a wand in a typical fashion, but the photos Professor Flitwick showed her it didn't matter. As long as she could still do magic, it didn't matter how she held her wand. All that mattered was that she could do magic; that would never go away. With just a little bit of help, things would be okay in the end, and the school year didn't seem so bleak after all. It was going to be a good year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one shot was written almost entirely on two separate Twitch streams I did! This was the topic that was decided on, and we all wrote the one shot together. So big big thank you to whoever came out to write with me!
> 
> I'll be doing them more frequently, so if you'd like to be kept up to date, follow me on socials to find out the next writing date or join the Discord! You can always go ahead and follow my [Twitch](HTTP://twitch.tv/mymoonyandstars)!


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